it's that time of year again. time to drag out our commifabulous red star twinkling best and live it up! for me, that involves red hot pants. for beijing, that involves flags all over the place and large red banners reminding us to hotly love the motherland. (incidentally, for it me it also involves some flash dance moves and for china it also involves some very fast and fancy footwork to erase potentially provocative materials on the internet before anyone can read them. along those lines, if someone can somehow access this blog post, copy and paste, and send it to me in an email, i'd be much obliged - http://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_4e00bcd90100lxhm.html.)
ahh, 'tis the night before national day and all through the sky, the streaks of pinkish smog make us all sigh. for some reason observing the pinkish smoggy sunset out my office window has me thinking about how swiftly time flies. perhaps because, although i will be working during this holiday (dancing a sure-to-be impressively complicated tornado ballet involving transition memos and closure and other such stuff as dreams are made of), our office will be closed and by the time my chinese colleagues return on october 11, it will be my last week here. which is rather astounding. tempus fugit. i am also recalling national day last year - and all the red glory* around the 60th anniversary of the PRC while i personally fled to HK to avoid said glory. hard to believe that was a year ago. then again, also not. i've done a lot of dancing since then. in so many senses. and my curious mixed metaphor about tornado ballets and transition memos aside, i'll certainly be doing a lot of rocking out in my office over the next week while the rest of my comrades in this city are hotly loving the motherland. it's hard, i've never left a job when i'm still generally happy with it (or where i am so close with my colleagues as i am here) but simply had a worthier challenge come along. but that's life. and time. it whirls forward and you need to keep on running - or dancing - along as furiously and fabulously as you can.
other than pondering the passage of time, i have another question on my mind this evening. to wit: does a one become a revolutionary out of the belief that one is entitled to joy rather than submission? sometimes i think that is what starts the process of becoming a revolutionary. maybe it's always what starts it. and no, i don't have anything more profound to say about this question now. perhaps you do. please share. once upon a lifetime i might have chided myself about this or considered trying to make a more tidy point here before moving on. but i came across this line from antoine blodin recently and am taking it to heart tonight - "the only duty of the writer is not to have one". also, wasn't it joan didion who said she writes to find out what she thinks? i can relate to that.
and so. on this fine mid-autumn eve, i think that i am glad to still be in china. with all of its complexities, challenges, and imperfections. with all of its death and and all of its glory. i appreciate it all the more in this evening moment feeling as though i am watching time fly swiftly by outside my window, inspiring me to live all the more fully and make the most of everything**. death or glory. (or dancing.)
*writing that made me want to listen to the clash song 'death or glory'. so i just put it on and am now rocking out to it as i watch the sunset and write the rest of this post. i suggest you do the same and listen to it as you continue reading. maybe i should also add it into the subject. why not?
**speaking of making the most of everything, we had a meeting at a german NGO this afternoon where they served serious german cakes (black forest, cheesecake, apfel strudel, etc) & fresh coffee on real plates with proper silverware. so civilised! love those deutschers. talk about a charm offensive. anyone would forgive two world wars in exchange for regularly being served delicious baked goods and fresh coffee during meetings. very, very clever. also makes me think of death or cake rather than death or glory. or more precisely, the great eddie izzard skit from dressed to kill - "thank you for flying church of england, cake or death?"
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
midnight mooncake meltdown
ok so enough kumbayaing. it's midnight. i'm in the business class (royal silk! (sounds better than it is)) lounge in the bangkok airport. and i am meeting my nemesis. well, not meeting so much as we are in fact well-acquainted. but confronting is more like it. (appropriately, and i kid you not, a cheesy piano version of 'don't cry for me argentina' is playing.) this nemesis is in fact a small pastry*, so really no match for me at all. and yet. and yet, my cackles are up. aside from all of the joy of spaciousness and space and sea and sky and sunshine and such, a very exciting added joy of this particular escape was avoiding the mid-autumn festival in china (zhongqiujie). i have nothing against celebrating mid-autumn, the new harvest, the new moon, the old moon, any moon at all really. my gripe against this particular holiday is entirely related to its signature food - the mooncake (yuebing). (collective sigh of relief. anyone out there who has ever endured one knows what i'm talking about but is afraid to verbalise. it's ok, exhale and continue.) the truth is, the chinese culture has created many amazing things (in fact, perhaps all amazing things). it is an ancient and great culture with an ostensibly equally ancient and great culinary history. that said, you'd think that someone somewhere along the last five thousand years of great creative civilization would have stood up and said, 'these yuebing bite, and i don't mean in a good way, so let's do something about it'. mooncakes are simply bad. terrible, even. and the traditional kinds only seem to get worse. it's a texture thing (we used to joke in my family that they were really best used as hockey pucks). it's a flavour thing (they even make my beloved red bean bad). it's just a mooncake thing. (also, let's be honest, nothing with an egg yolk inside should be preserved for an extended period of time. at least i don't think so.) i have never met a mooncake i can say i truly liked. except for non-mooncake mooncakes. because apparently the chinese civilization was content with the status quo and re-gifting the same seven boxes of nasty egg-yolk-centered, hockey puck pastries for centuries, it took in the intervention of hagen daaz and other foreign devils to lead a small mooncake revolution**. to wit: ice cream mooncakes, chocolate mooncakes, this year i've even heard of cupcake mooncakes. anyway, i avoid mooncakes with a passion (that cannot be chased indoors for anything! (geesh, i am so dramatic sometimes when i'm over-thinking***)). thus, i was especially pleased to avoid this year's mid-autumn festivities altogether and escape to thailand. i avoided feigning delight at receiving another box of (re-gifted) mooncakes; i avoided re-gifting them myself; i avoided having to pretend to eat a piece of one in the presence of others (although thankfully that rarely happens, i think we all collectively avoid eating them in public, it allows the same seven boxes to be re-gifted indefinitely)); i avoided all of it. or so i thought. until i arrived in the royal silk lounge, sat comfortably in my generic boring airport lounge chair, and found myself staring down an abandoned mooncake on the table next to me. now, mooncakes were not a part of our complimentary buffet this evening so how this fiend found his way before me, i know not. but we are currently in a bit of a showdown here in the silk lounge. mr. mooncake vs. meiling and all that is good and sacred (ok, so maybe i'm dramatic even when i'm not over-thinking). i suspect that i will win this particular battle for two reasons. 1 - i am a person, he is a pastry. 2 - he will very soon be tidied up by the silk lounge staff and swept swiftly into oblivion. i, meanwhile, will board my flight and arrive bleary-eyed back in beijing in all its mid-autumn glory. kumbaya.
*line from a book i just read that i appreciated - a first impression of paris: scowling grey universe relieved by pastry. nothing like clinging to a tarte tatin or a croissant for katharsis, weather-related or otherwise.
**curious, at dinner with a commercially-minded entrepreneur friend in bangkok this evening, he noted how all of the great chinese entrepreneurs of the last decade basically just took a foreign business concept, copied it, translated it into chinese and made bazillions. query whether there is some common thread here related to the inability to innovate the mooncake without outside intervention.
***a new guy friend who visited this blog recently said he found it a bit much. i asked which part was more upsetting, the over-thinking or the over-sharing. he blinked very rapidly a few times and changed the subject. i smiled at life.
*line from a book i just read that i appreciated - a first impression of paris: scowling grey universe relieved by pastry. nothing like clinging to a tarte tatin or a croissant for katharsis, weather-related or otherwise.
**curious, at dinner with a commercially-minded entrepreneur friend in bangkok this evening, he noted how all of the great chinese entrepreneurs of the last decade basically just took a foreign business concept, copied it, translated it into chinese and made bazillions. query whether there is some common thread here related to the inability to innovate the mooncake without outside intervention.
***a new guy friend who visited this blog recently said he found it a bit much. i asked which part was more upsetting, the over-thinking or the over-sharing. he blinked very rapidly a few times and changed the subject. i smiled at life.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
passion that can't be chased indoors for anything
it is my last day in paradise. cloudy for the first time, but just as well*. i don't mind the slightly overcast skies as my spirits are soaring, my thoughts lofty, and i still have passion that can't be chased indoors for anything. this, however, is not news. what is news is the sense of calm and stillness these last few days have allowed. and the seismic shift in my life that is about to take place. although perhaps that's a bit dramatic. it's just a shift in career, after all. the fundamentals shall stay the same. (they always do.) it's curious though, how much of who we are seems to hang suspended on what we do. at least in some cultures. however, who we are and how we exist in the world may in fact have very little to do with our occupations. and yet ideally we should find careers that nourish in many senses - literally (food on the table), personally (engaging and feeding the mind), spiritually (cultivating compassion and inspiration to better oneself), and communally / worldly (contributing in some small way to bettering us all). i know that sounds terribly cliched, but i am a world-impover after all. yet when i write this, i don't mean to suggest that we all need to be saving baby turtles or knitting sweaters for war orphans. i think you can just was easily find that nourishment - in all of those senses - on almost any path. (almost being the operative word in that sentence.) i read a quote about this once. ahem:
What the world needs more than anything is bodhisattvas, active servants of peace, “clothed,” as Longchenpa said, “in the armor of perseverance,” dedicated to their bodhisattva vision and to the spreading of wisdom into all reaches of our experience. We need bodhisattva lawyers, bodhisattva artists and politicians, bodhisattva doctors and economists, bodhisattva teachers and scientists, bodhisattva technicians and engineers, bodhisattvas everywhere, working consciously as channels of compassion and wisdom at every level and in every situation of society; working to transform their minds and actions and those of others, working tirelessly in the certain knowledge of the support of the buddhas and enlightened beings for the preservation of our world and for a more merciful future.
hear hear. i'm all for a more merciful future. particularly after these most merciful few days. on my first day, as i enjoyed an cool tall glass of red zinger (beet, carrot, cucumber and ginger*** juice), a charming member of the staff came over to introduce himself. attractive, of medium build, and wearing distinctive glasses, he greeted me in thai and then switched to english, introducing himself as 'wut'. we chatted a bit. he then asked if he could tell me something. i said, what? and wut said, 'remember that you are here to be on holiday and you need to relax and be happy'. what? wut? wooot! in that moment i decided i loved this wut. and what. the what of pure fascination with life as it is, however it is. it has been a blissful few days of yoga, mango & sticky rice, rambutans, reading, swimming, running, writing, reflecting, & enjoying my own company. i declined to meet up with my friend's friends in the end. although i felt a bit sheepish about doing so. (it felt so selfish to guard my desire to be alone.) all the more so when on my second night here wut was already encouraging me to join the communal dinner table. this is a table full of other travelers (single or otherwise) keen to share their meal and be social. not even two days in and already there was pressure to be social! wut suggested i might enjoy meeting new friends. i politely declined. (what?) i was really more than content on my own. i spend my whole life at the communal table. half the time i am constructing the communal table myself, or at least laying out the place settings. i came all the way here to escape the communal table, much as i enjoy it in my real life. thankfully wut didn't press it further, although he still made a point of checking in on me every day.
other than wut's whats (and hows and whys and wheres), the main assessing of my days here has involved alignment. i had a 90 minute private yoga session each day with a charming flemish woman who had a very precisely kind way of describing the world, the body, and how the two converse and are one. we worked in very small, subtle ways and i appreciated our time together on a wooden floor overlooking the ocean. i hope i can hold onto just some small part of the new openness we've nurtured into my mid-back. i think when i start this new job i think i need to insist on bringing a medicine ball or some sort of spine-friendly chair to sit upon even if it looks silly. it's time.
and of course amid all of this beauty and grace and sunshine and inspiration, i found myself overflowing with passion(s). love and a desire to give and give again. in many ways. thus the subject of this post. even if i will be chased indoors (and in fact chased into autumn as summer has fled beijing) tomorrow and need to leave this paradise behind, i can take my irrepressible passion with me. who could ask for anything more? what?
*just as well because i allowed myself to be in the direct sun for a very brief amount of time yesterday. maybe an hour and a half. with 85++ sunscreen on. (i know, i don't know if it makes any difference either, but it sounds impressive and i reckon i need all the protection i can get. some say that nothing over 15 makes a difference. probably true. but i try to involve 8s in my life as much as possible, so there is also that.) reapplication was also involved. and yet. and yet i still managed to get burned on my chest. you can very clearly see where the sunscreen wasn't sufficiently rubbed in. sigh. i know we all lack some vital nutrient since we don't get enough exposure to sunlight in our modern lifestyles, but i had a soup that involved pureed carrots and coconut oil yesterday at lunch and i'd like to think that made up for it since i clearly cannot handle sunbathing anymore. (it is vitamin d that we lack, yes? and that is also in carrots, no? yes, no, maybe so?) aside from the splotchy burn, and even though my head was almost always covered with my hat, the pregnancy on my face** also came back. which means enough sun for meiling this trip. and to think i just to be able to lie in the sun for long, languorous stretches of time! ahh the folly of youth and young skin. (although i always burned then too. i just didn't mind as much.)
**the pregnancy on my face is a skin condition, otherwise known as melasma, that was diagnosed on valentines day in 2008, almost exactly six months before my 30th birthday. i recall these details because this was my first trip to a dermatologist and in my naiveté i confused going to see this medical professional with going to the spa. after a straight male friend commented on the 'dark splotch' on my cheek, i decided it was worth exploring what the increasing discolouration i'd noticed might be. i made an appointment for valentine's day thinking this would be a nice treat for me. it was not so much a treat. i arrived, ready to be pampered. (yes, i know magical thinking.) instead, after examining my skin, the doctor announced, 'you have the mask of pregnancy'. she asked if i was pregnant. i said no. she asked how old i was. i said 29 and a half. she asked if i had been on birth control pills for a long time. i said i had. she said that explained it. the splotches, she said, were a skin condition that effects white and south asian women and appear during pregnancy or after having been on hormonally-based birth control for a long time without becoming pregnant. it gets worse in the sun. she said given my age and my having been on birth control for several years, this was quite normal and there was nothing to do except go off the pill and avoid the sun. she also said i could expect to have it return when and if i ever become pregnant. to be sure i understood, i clarified that this was basically my body's way of crying out for a baby, by putting its demand all over my face. she said, more or less. i said, 'happy valentine's day to me!' she offered me prescription skin-whiteners, but that felt a bit extreme. i told her i'd stop taking the pill immediately and otherwise drown my sorrows over my splotchy skin and childlessness in excessive sunscreen application. i have since worn sunscreen (in my moisturizer) on a daily basis. i have done such a thorough job of drowning these particular sorrows that i think the damn things have learned to swim! that is, they swim swiftly back to the surface of my skin at even the slightest exposure to sunlight. but no matter. melasma is hardly of serious consequence and i find my slight mustache more amusing than anything else.
***curiously i have been craving ginger incessantly since i've been here. ginger juices, fresh ginger tea, ginger at almost every meal. unsure what this means. if anything. (note to self - there is not meaning in everything. perhaps craving ginger signifies nothing more than enjoying that particular spice.)
What the world needs more than anything is bodhisattvas, active servants of peace, “clothed,” as Longchenpa said, “in the armor of perseverance,” dedicated to their bodhisattva vision and to the spreading of wisdom into all reaches of our experience. We need bodhisattva lawyers, bodhisattva artists and politicians, bodhisattva doctors and economists, bodhisattva teachers and scientists, bodhisattva technicians and engineers, bodhisattvas everywhere, working consciously as channels of compassion and wisdom at every level and in every situation of society; working to transform their minds and actions and those of others, working tirelessly in the certain knowledge of the support of the buddhas and enlightened beings for the preservation of our world and for a more merciful future.
hear hear. i'm all for a more merciful future. particularly after these most merciful few days. on my first day, as i enjoyed an cool tall glass of red zinger (beet, carrot, cucumber and ginger*** juice), a charming member of the staff came over to introduce himself. attractive, of medium build, and wearing distinctive glasses, he greeted me in thai and then switched to english, introducing himself as 'wut'. we chatted a bit. he then asked if he could tell me something. i said, what? and wut said, 'remember that you are here to be on holiday and you need to relax and be happy'. what? wut? wooot! in that moment i decided i loved this wut. and what. the what of pure fascination with life as it is, however it is. it has been a blissful few days of yoga, mango & sticky rice, rambutans, reading, swimming, running, writing, reflecting, & enjoying my own company. i declined to meet up with my friend's friends in the end. although i felt a bit sheepish about doing so. (it felt so selfish to guard my desire to be alone.) all the more so when on my second night here wut was already encouraging me to join the communal dinner table. this is a table full of other travelers (single or otherwise) keen to share their meal and be social. not even two days in and already there was pressure to be social! wut suggested i might enjoy meeting new friends. i politely declined. (what?) i was really more than content on my own. i spend my whole life at the communal table. half the time i am constructing the communal table myself, or at least laying out the place settings. i came all the way here to escape the communal table, much as i enjoy it in my real life. thankfully wut didn't press it further, although he still made a point of checking in on me every day.
other than wut's whats (and hows and whys and wheres), the main assessing of my days here has involved alignment. i had a 90 minute private yoga session each day with a charming flemish woman who had a very precisely kind way of describing the world, the body, and how the two converse and are one. we worked in very small, subtle ways and i appreciated our time together on a wooden floor overlooking the ocean. i hope i can hold onto just some small part of the new openness we've nurtured into my mid-back. i think when i start this new job i think i need to insist on bringing a medicine ball or some sort of spine-friendly chair to sit upon even if it looks silly. it's time.
and of course amid all of this beauty and grace and sunshine and inspiration, i found myself overflowing with passion(s). love and a desire to give and give again. in many ways. thus the subject of this post. even if i will be chased indoors (and in fact chased into autumn as summer has fled beijing) tomorrow and need to leave this paradise behind, i can take my irrepressible passion with me. who could ask for anything more? what?
*just as well because i allowed myself to be in the direct sun for a very brief amount of time yesterday. maybe an hour and a half. with 85++ sunscreen on. (i know, i don't know if it makes any difference either, but it sounds impressive and i reckon i need all the protection i can get. some say that nothing over 15 makes a difference. probably true. but i try to involve 8s in my life as much as possible, so there is also that.) reapplication was also involved. and yet. and yet i still managed to get burned on my chest. you can very clearly see where the sunscreen wasn't sufficiently rubbed in. sigh. i know we all lack some vital nutrient since we don't get enough exposure to sunlight in our modern lifestyles, but i had a soup that involved pureed carrots and coconut oil yesterday at lunch and i'd like to think that made up for it since i clearly cannot handle sunbathing anymore. (it is vitamin d that we lack, yes? and that is also in carrots, no? yes, no, maybe so?) aside from the splotchy burn, and even though my head was almost always covered with my hat, the pregnancy on my face** also came back. which means enough sun for meiling this trip. and to think i just to be able to lie in the sun for long, languorous stretches of time! ahh the folly of youth and young skin. (although i always burned then too. i just didn't mind as much.)
**the pregnancy on my face is a skin condition, otherwise known as melasma, that was diagnosed on valentines day in 2008, almost exactly six months before my 30th birthday. i recall these details because this was my first trip to a dermatologist and in my naiveté i confused going to see this medical professional with going to the spa. after a straight male friend commented on the 'dark splotch' on my cheek, i decided it was worth exploring what the increasing discolouration i'd noticed might be. i made an appointment for valentine's day thinking this would be a nice treat for me. it was not so much a treat. i arrived, ready to be pampered. (yes, i know magical thinking.) instead, after examining my skin, the doctor announced, 'you have the mask of pregnancy'. she asked if i was pregnant. i said no. she asked how old i was. i said 29 and a half. she asked if i had been on birth control pills for a long time. i said i had. she said that explained it. the splotches, she said, were a skin condition that effects white and south asian women and appear during pregnancy or after having been on hormonally-based birth control for a long time without becoming pregnant. it gets worse in the sun. she said given my age and my having been on birth control for several years, this was quite normal and there was nothing to do except go off the pill and avoid the sun. she also said i could expect to have it return when and if i ever become pregnant. to be sure i understood, i clarified that this was basically my body's way of crying out for a baby, by putting its demand all over my face. she said, more or less. i said, 'happy valentine's day to me!' she offered me prescription skin-whiteners, but that felt a bit extreme. i told her i'd stop taking the pill immediately and otherwise drown my sorrows over my splotchy skin and childlessness in excessive sunscreen application. i have since worn sunscreen (in my moisturizer) on a daily basis. i have done such a thorough job of drowning these particular sorrows that i think the damn things have learned to swim! that is, they swim swiftly back to the surface of my skin at even the slightest exposure to sunlight. but no matter. melasma is hardly of serious consequence and i find my slight mustache more amusing than anything else.
***curiously i have been craving ginger incessantly since i've been here. ginger juices, fresh ginger tea, ginger at almost every meal. unsure what this means. if anything. (note to self - there is not meaning in everything. perhaps craving ginger signifies nothing more than enjoying that particular spice.)
Monday, September 20, 2010
love after love
i am watching the sunset in bangkok. the orange pink of the sky over the river is rather embracing somehow. nice to feel embraced this evening, even if i am enjoying this particular sunset solo. and am in fact about to embark upon a solo holiday in koh samui. and am especially looking forward to it. i caught up with an old friend last night over a delightful dinner and he mentioned wanting to put me in touch with friends of his in koh samui. i found myself hesitating and feeling rather protective of my as yet unentered private space. even before i've arrived. but i consented to at least getting their contact information. i may end up finding myself bored with so much time on my own and may welcome a meal with others. SJ, this spectacular sunset just became even more breathtaking. i feel even more deeply embraced. i've endured the few days of this work conference, which were hardly embracing, so it's about time*. this conference was focused on regional efforts at improving environmental adjudication so was basically a collection of asian judges + me. there was one chinese judge participating, a woman i'd previously met through some of our programs. she doesn't really speak english, which resulted in my serving as an interpreter for a substantial portion of the past three days. it was tiring. i sometimes question the value of these regional forums as much time seems to be swallowed by descriptions of the circumstances in each country leaving little time to more deeply delve into issues of common concern or challenges or learning points. but so goes the world. i endured. and will soon be moving on. in more ways than one. i gave notice today. and accepted a new job. i ought to be sipping a cocktail called 'momentum' now. doing so at our housewarming party in may was perhaps premature. or not. that was perhaps the beginning of the arc of this particular rainbow.
and perhaps saying i've endured is a bit too much. there have been some lovely moments of late. watching a blue boat sail past and seeing a sundrenched old man enjoying a beer as he floated by. seeing a fish flip up and wave hello with a fin. eating amazing curry and mango sticky rice. laughing with an environmental judge from australia about moments of cultural relativism. and laughing even harder with my high school friend about our teenage antics. and angst. and merriment. and more. my how we've grown. and my how i have. of course in catching up on the last ten years i talked about heartache and trauma, disappointment and pain. but there was also so much joy and beauty and light and love. so much love. there always is. just below every surface, like the sweet fish who surprise splashed me hello. i found myself describing my enduring faith. especially my faith in love. even if for now i am only embraced by sunsets. every time that my heart is shattered, i respond by finding a way to continue to believe and be open-hearted. continue to love and give. and that is perhaps all one can ask of life. the opportunity to love, even after love. cher once sagely asked 'do you believe in love after love'?** i can unequivocally answer yes! onwards.
*it's also about time for a real embrace, but there's little to nothing i can do about that. and so.
**ok, so i know the line actually is 'do you believe in life after love', but i'm taking artistic license here. and besides, doesn't life = love?
and perhaps saying i've endured is a bit too much. there have been some lovely moments of late. watching a blue boat sail past and seeing a sundrenched old man enjoying a beer as he floated by. seeing a fish flip up and wave hello with a fin. eating amazing curry and mango sticky rice. laughing with an environmental judge from australia about moments of cultural relativism. and laughing even harder with my high school friend about our teenage antics. and angst. and merriment. and more. my how we've grown. and my how i have. of course in catching up on the last ten years i talked about heartache and trauma, disappointment and pain. but there was also so much joy and beauty and light and love. so much love. there always is. just below every surface, like the sweet fish who surprise splashed me hello. i found myself describing my enduring faith. especially my faith in love. even if for now i am only embraced by sunsets. every time that my heart is shattered, i respond by finding a way to continue to believe and be open-hearted. continue to love and give. and that is perhaps all one can ask of life. the opportunity to love, even after love. cher once sagely asked 'do you believe in love after love'?** i can unequivocally answer yes! onwards.
*it's also about time for a real embrace, but there's little to nothing i can do about that. and so.
**ok, so i know the line actually is 'do you believe in life after love', but i'm taking artistic license here. and besides, doesn't life = love?
Thursday, September 16, 2010
doing it beautifully
so our stretch of sweet, serene blue sky days and sparkly summer evenings under the stars in the courtyard have come to a close. here in the northern capital we are once again firmly embraced by filth. in the form of pollution, naturally (or rather unnaturally), and also just general dirt and squalor. now i too have been known to swoon over the quiet joys of hutong living, but sometimes i fail to see the romance. this morning was one of those times. as i walked down the alley to the bus stop, i found myself doing the using winding dance avoiding filth in various forms and thinking whether hutong life is less about poetry and more about poo. literally. all over the place. and piles of dirt. and having to see underwear in public a lot. although that may just be a china thing. airing your laundry - even your intimates - in public spaces is quite acceptable. it's unfortunate that all of these knickers kicking it about town seem to be unsightly. almost without fail they are old, enormous, yellowing, and one wear shy of unravelling. you beijingren out there know exactly what i'm talking about. why? i ask you, why? then again, maybe in my fretting about underwear aesthetics, i am missing some profounder truth hidden in all the (over)exposed panties*. isn't god a shout in the street? shouldn't we be able to find enlightenment in the everyday? maybe the answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind. and maybe the answer is enormous underwear. (of course, i might need to work out the question first.)
anyway, after enduring aesthetic, aural and olfactory assualts in the alley, i boarded a bus that had clearly pulled up to our humble stop straight out of an orson scott card novel**. our driver may or may not have been engaged in some sort of intergalactic space battle in a dimension the rest of us could not access or see. seriously. i think i have bruises from being tossed about so much. there were at least two moments when i felt quite certain i was on the verge of death or serious bodily injury. in those moments i both cursed myself for wearing gorgeous patent leather stilettos this morning and congratulated myself for going down in style. i found myself thinking of hedda gabler's immortal line, 'do it beautifully', urging a man to commit suicide in style. and so.
and so i've decided that doing it beautifully is a healthy approach to all things. even if the origin of this particular mantra is perhaps less than healthy. i strolled down the alley in my stilettos humming along to the jazz*** on my ipod, sidestepping the sh*t and gracefully avoiding pantie attacks, beautifully. and today i shall beautifully attempt not to be disheartened about the ever-shrinking space for human rights advocacy in this (filthy) country. and i shall also beautifully contemplate a possible career shift that would allow me to continue to work on the issues i care about, but from an altered (and perhaps safer more generative) angle.
actually, maybe that's the answer.
(who needs the question?)
do it beautifully.
*and i am ostensibly into finding beauty in unexpected places!
**i am generally not much of a science fiction fan, but absolutely love ender's game, and then next 2-3 books in the series. i think it falls off after that. if you haven't read it, get thee to a bookstore or library or website (so many options in the modern world! (too many?))! oh and again, not trying to be bossy. just spreading sunshine. very necessary on this grey day.
***sometimes i love jazz so much i wish i could eat it.
anyway, after enduring aesthetic, aural and olfactory assualts in the alley, i boarded a bus that had clearly pulled up to our humble stop straight out of an orson scott card novel**. our driver may or may not have been engaged in some sort of intergalactic space battle in a dimension the rest of us could not access or see. seriously. i think i have bruises from being tossed about so much. there were at least two moments when i felt quite certain i was on the verge of death or serious bodily injury. in those moments i both cursed myself for wearing gorgeous patent leather stilettos this morning and congratulated myself for going down in style. i found myself thinking of hedda gabler's immortal line, 'do it beautifully', urging a man to commit suicide in style. and so.
and so i've decided that doing it beautifully is a healthy approach to all things. even if the origin of this particular mantra is perhaps less than healthy. i strolled down the alley in my stilettos humming along to the jazz*** on my ipod, sidestepping the sh*t and gracefully avoiding pantie attacks, beautifully. and today i shall beautifully attempt not to be disheartened about the ever-shrinking space for human rights advocacy in this (filthy) country. and i shall also beautifully contemplate a possible career shift that would allow me to continue to work on the issues i care about, but from an altered (and perhaps safer more generative) angle.
actually, maybe that's the answer.
(who needs the question?)
do it beautifully.
*and i am ostensibly into finding beauty in unexpected places!
**i am generally not much of a science fiction fan, but absolutely love ender's game, and then next 2-3 books in the series. i think it falls off after that. if you haven't read it, get thee to a bookstore or library or website (so many options in the modern world! (too many?))! oh and again, not trying to be bossy. just spreading sunshine. very necessary on this grey day.
***sometimes i love jazz so much i wish i could eat it.
Monday, September 6, 2010
whimsy and worry
so wednesday afternoon i composed a perfectly witty and pithy post with this title, cleverly lyrical gangsta about how i am all whimsy, no worry only to have the post be irretrievably swept away by cyberspace. i blame the great firewall and some sharky vpn activity. this loss proves that god has a sense of humour.* because of course once it was disappeared, i worried about having lost my wondrous musings on whimsy. i consider all of it a lesson in impermanence. my version of a sand mandala. the title survived the ritualistic destruction, so i too have retained it. but i shall not attempt to recreate that perfect post in its entirety. instead, i'll briefly summarise and move on, since that is what life has done in the meanwhile. moved on, that is. it always does.
the title that the small hands of cyberspace saved refers to my decision of late to choose whimsy over worry. and to encourage others to do the same. not that it is my purpose to impose my will on others.** but really i think we could all do with more whimsy in our lives. and less worry.
i was having dinner with a friend earlier this week and while i was relating a recent whimsical experience, he asked me if i could turn off the novel. he said that listening to me tell stories was like being inside a novel. he suggested that i was so busy creating, characterising, or painting my life that i wasn't simply living it. i was very briefly taken aback. i paused and considered whether he had a point, whether i somehow follow more entertaining or colourful paths purely for the sake of personal narrative or, as he may have been implying, to create wondrous stories but remain hidden behind them and not actually let anyone get close to me. i decided he was mistaken. i believe that i in fact live very authentically. i told him as much and explained that it's just the honest truth that my life that my seemingly stranger-than-fiction tornado ballet life stories are what transpire when i simply live my life. it's just part of being sparkleicious.**** i also opined that creating stories and ordering our experiences is simply how we relate. only connect!***** we then connected by imagining what would happen next in our lives if they were novels. being september, i confessed that my next chapter would have to involve falling in love because september is the perfect season to fall in love.****** of course now that i've said that and written it here, it will certainly not happen. but that's also fine because my life is not a novel, i don't live it as such and i'm not worried about falling in love at the moment. which is a relief.
after our dinner deliberations, i discovered that a thoughtful mime had said as much in a conversation with my fabulous friend that she shared on her fabulous blog: http://citizenkerry.tumblr.com/post/1080790472/my-new-friend-pearl-the-mime. pearl the mime opined: “We’re all editors, and we’re all choosing the styles and the stories that represent us." the styles and stories i'm choosing now are pure whimsy.
what does that mean in practice? it means lots of laughter and forgetting. it means noticing texture. touch. challenging myself. it means soaking up the end of summer, appreciating each precious drop of sunlight and blue sky (which is seriously precious in these parts), and dancing when no one's watching. or even when they are. it means never giving up. it means glorious late summer dinner parties with delightful friends. and last thursday i hosted perhaps my most ambitious dinner party ever. (confession: pure whimsy aside, there is always some worry involved when i take on my elaborate dinner menu agendas. thankfully it usually all comes together in the end. and this night in particular it did.*******) as evening gave way to night, the dinner devolved into drunken parlour games in the courtyard that lasted into the wee hours. a great deal of whimsy! so much, in fact, that i was still feeling it the next morning. or maybe that was the whisky.
actually, rather than the perfect season to fall in love, this particular september seems to be the perfect season for thursday to be the new friday. a pink is the new black kind of thing. (or is black the new black this year?) i seem to be up or out late every thursday of late. last night was no exception. but - wait for it - i'm not worrying about it. and i know that i'll swing back into balance by the end of the month since it will find me at a yoga / spa escape in koh samui! this story is a lesson in the whimsy-worry balance (and will also conclude with some lessons on actual balance as part of a five day personal yoga synergy program - so excited). i need to be in bangkok for work next week and the mid-autumn festival immediately follows my work trip, so i decided to extend my time in thailand and go somewhere over the holiday. i have been craving some stillness (the tornado ballet gets tiring sometimes, even with my excessive sparkle) and so explored yoga escapes. i wrestled with whether i could or should afford to go with this dream program at a highly recommended but not cheap gorgeous resort built on buddhist caves. (confession: i also had some moments of worrying about going on holiday alone and considering finding a friend or lover (?) to come along. but i decided to embrace myself.) i also decided to embrace the dream program at the gorgeous resort. and then. and then last night i got an email from the director of my NGO saying he wanted to speak with me via phone. he called this morning to tell me i was being awarded a one time (modest) merit bonus in appreciation for all my work over the last year. i was very surprised and humbled and grateful. all the more so when i learned the details. it is the exact amount to cover my holiday. literally the exact amount. and it will be deposited into my bank account on the day i fly to thailand. which is truly and simply amazing grace. maybe i'm wrong to have whimsy as my mantra of the moment. (i'm pretty sure i'm right to try not to worry.) maybe i should be moved and amazed by grace. then again, maybe i already was and always am. and maybe, just maybe, that is also part of whimsy. whheeeeeeeee!
*does she ever! she is also everywhere. like the heroes in the seaweed.
**i doubt many of you have dashed off to listen to j.c. and bill moyers chat myths and meaning. i make these suggestions not to impose myself upon you, but merely as a means of sharing. only connect!***
***challenge: how many times have i used that expression in this blog? too many, to be sure. and i'm not even much of a howard's end fan, really. and yet. here is the relevant passage:
Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.
and now it is too clear why i quote it so often, why that expression has become a touchstone for me.... imagine if we could collect all of the expressions and the images that serve as our touchstones. and not just when writing in public spaces, or writing at all. but those that we reach for inside ourselves in quiet moments. or that we look for next to the moon through the trees when we're lying in bed mulling over our days and our tomorrows. oh, to gather that ephemera in one place. it would surely arrange into an astounding bouquet! i would love to sculpt it somehow. and place it in a public space where many hands could smooth it over and over until it was gone.... on a less abstact note, i have decided to cease worrying about footnoting footnotes.
****a nickname. also, a true story: in a recent meeting about a potential new job in discussing what i would bring to the position, i included "spakle" (which i defined as an ability to stand out in a crowd and network to make people connect and bring out their best on behalf of a worthy cause). the woman i was speaking with almost leapt out of her seat. she cried, "you have so much sparkle!" i smiled demurely (in pearls) and agreed. i thought to myself, "you have no idea, lady. i sparkle when i'm not even trying. and sometimes, it's too bright even for me."
*****i had to throw that in for people who don't actually read the footnotes. zigazig ha. (yes, i just quoted the spice girls.)
******an idea absorbed from the fantasticks. a very pure musical. please refer to the lyrics of "try to remember" for more details.
*******menu included a watermelon gazpacho, a spinach-garbanzo bean-cucumber-cherry tomato-feta quinoa salad w/ smoked paprika dressing, an avacado-cherry tomato-red onion-cilantro greens salad w/ a secret balsamic dressing, marinated baked salmon topped with roasted red and yellow peppers and thyme. a friend contributed roasted figs wrapped in proscuitto to the appetizer course. and i made my magic amaretto-spiked chocolate mousse for dessert. it was strong work for dinner for twelve on a thursday. oh and, of course, there was lots of delicious cheese accessible at all times.
the title that the small hands of cyberspace saved refers to my decision of late to choose whimsy over worry. and to encourage others to do the same. not that it is my purpose to impose my will on others.** but really i think we could all do with more whimsy in our lives. and less worry.
i was having dinner with a friend earlier this week and while i was relating a recent whimsical experience, he asked me if i could turn off the novel. he said that listening to me tell stories was like being inside a novel. he suggested that i was so busy creating, characterising, or painting my life that i wasn't simply living it. i was very briefly taken aback. i paused and considered whether he had a point, whether i somehow follow more entertaining or colourful paths purely for the sake of personal narrative or, as he may have been implying, to create wondrous stories but remain hidden behind them and not actually let anyone get close to me. i decided he was mistaken. i believe that i in fact live very authentically. i told him as much and explained that it's just the honest truth that my life that my seemingly stranger-than-fiction tornado ballet life stories are what transpire when i simply live my life. it's just part of being sparkleicious.**** i also opined that creating stories and ordering our experiences is simply how we relate. only connect!***** we then connected by imagining what would happen next in our lives if they were novels. being september, i confessed that my next chapter would have to involve falling in love because september is the perfect season to fall in love.****** of course now that i've said that and written it here, it will certainly not happen. but that's also fine because my life is not a novel, i don't live it as such and i'm not worried about falling in love at the moment. which is a relief.
after our dinner deliberations, i discovered that a thoughtful mime had said as much in a conversation with my fabulous friend that she shared on her fabulous blog: http://citizenkerry.tumblr.com/post/1080790472/my-new-friend-pearl-the-mime. pearl the mime opined: “We’re all editors, and we’re all choosing the styles and the stories that represent us." the styles and stories i'm choosing now are pure whimsy.
what does that mean in practice? it means lots of laughter and forgetting. it means noticing texture. touch. challenging myself. it means soaking up the end of summer, appreciating each precious drop of sunlight and blue sky (which is seriously precious in these parts), and dancing when no one's watching. or even when they are. it means never giving up. it means glorious late summer dinner parties with delightful friends. and last thursday i hosted perhaps my most ambitious dinner party ever. (confession: pure whimsy aside, there is always some worry involved when i take on my elaborate dinner menu agendas. thankfully it usually all comes together in the end. and this night in particular it did.*******) as evening gave way to night, the dinner devolved into drunken parlour games in the courtyard that lasted into the wee hours. a great deal of whimsy! so much, in fact, that i was still feeling it the next morning. or maybe that was the whisky.
actually, rather than the perfect season to fall in love, this particular september seems to be the perfect season for thursday to be the new friday. a pink is the new black kind of thing. (or is black the new black this year?) i seem to be up or out late every thursday of late. last night was no exception. but - wait for it - i'm not worrying about it. and i know that i'll swing back into balance by the end of the month since it will find me at a yoga / spa escape in koh samui! this story is a lesson in the whimsy-worry balance (and will also conclude with some lessons on actual balance as part of a five day personal yoga synergy program - so excited). i need to be in bangkok for work next week and the mid-autumn festival immediately follows my work trip, so i decided to extend my time in thailand and go somewhere over the holiday. i have been craving some stillness (the tornado ballet gets tiring sometimes, even with my excessive sparkle) and so explored yoga escapes. i wrestled with whether i could or should afford to go with this dream program at a highly recommended but not cheap gorgeous resort built on buddhist caves. (confession: i also had some moments of worrying about going on holiday alone and considering finding a friend or lover (?) to come along. but i decided to embrace myself.) i also decided to embrace the dream program at the gorgeous resort. and then. and then last night i got an email from the director of my NGO saying he wanted to speak with me via phone. he called this morning to tell me i was being awarded a one time (modest) merit bonus in appreciation for all my work over the last year. i was very surprised and humbled and grateful. all the more so when i learned the details. it is the exact amount to cover my holiday. literally the exact amount. and it will be deposited into my bank account on the day i fly to thailand. which is truly and simply amazing grace. maybe i'm wrong to have whimsy as my mantra of the moment. (i'm pretty sure i'm right to try not to worry.) maybe i should be moved and amazed by grace. then again, maybe i already was and always am. and maybe, just maybe, that is also part of whimsy. whheeeeeeeee!
*does she ever! she is also everywhere. like the heroes in the seaweed.
**i doubt many of you have dashed off to listen to j.c. and bill moyers chat myths and meaning. i make these suggestions not to impose myself upon you, but merely as a means of sharing. only connect!***
***challenge: how many times have i used that expression in this blog? too many, to be sure. and i'm not even much of a howard's end fan, really. and yet. here is the relevant passage:
Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.
and now it is too clear why i quote it so often, why that expression has become a touchstone for me.... imagine if we could collect all of the expressions and the images that serve as our touchstones. and not just when writing in public spaces, or writing at all. but those that we reach for inside ourselves in quiet moments. or that we look for next to the moon through the trees when we're lying in bed mulling over our days and our tomorrows. oh, to gather that ephemera in one place. it would surely arrange into an astounding bouquet! i would love to sculpt it somehow. and place it in a public space where many hands could smooth it over and over until it was gone.... on a less abstact note, i have decided to cease worrying about footnoting footnotes.
****a nickname. also, a true story: in a recent meeting about a potential new job in discussing what i would bring to the position, i included "spakle" (which i defined as an ability to stand out in a crowd and network to make people connect and bring out their best on behalf of a worthy cause). the woman i was speaking with almost leapt out of her seat. she cried, "you have so much sparkle!" i smiled demurely (in pearls) and agreed. i thought to myself, "you have no idea, lady. i sparkle when i'm not even trying. and sometimes, it's too bright even for me."
*****i had to throw that in for people who don't actually read the footnotes. zigazig ha. (yes, i just quoted the spice girls.)
******an idea absorbed from the fantasticks. a very pure musical. please refer to the lyrics of "try to remember" for more details.
*******menu included a watermelon gazpacho, a spinach-garbanzo bean-cucumber-cherry tomato-feta quinoa salad w/ smoked paprika dressing, an avacado-cherry tomato-red onion-cilantro greens salad w/ a secret balsamic dressing, marinated baked salmon topped with roasted red and yellow peppers and thyme. a friend contributed roasted figs wrapped in proscuitto to the appetizer course. and i made my magic amaretto-spiked chocolate mousse for dessert. it was strong work for dinner for twelve on a thursday. oh and, of course, there was lots of delicious cheese accessible at all times.
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