i had a moment earlier this afternoon of nearly weeping with joy for no reason except feeling overwhelmed by the beauty and wonder of life. i was walking in the sunshine, noticing the patterns of tree branches against the midday sky, smiling at how life unfolds, and i was suddenly just filled with grace. i very nearly burst into tears from the beauty of everything. it was a moment of something like rapture, touched with gratitude. this moment was all the more moving because yesterday i was simply weeping. my gratitude was directed towards knowing that i will be fine. better than that. i recall hafiz: "this sky where we live is no place to lose your wings so love, love, love." yesterday i almost lost my wings.
well, maybe 'i almost lost my wings' is a bit dramatic. i don't think i can ever really lose my wings. i did unravel though. which was rather alarming. for some reason, i had my worst post-fire dreams ever on wednesday night. they did not involve actual flames, but rather my visiting a series of former homes - from both my childhood and adult life. the interiors had all been completely changed, often in fantastical ways (think precarious floating platforms creating a very high staircase attached to nothing in the middle of a large, cavernous room with a stage and sound equipment and secret garden below), and were thus unfamiliar. the occupants in the homes were quite strange and sometimes hostile. and in each place i was being put in challenging situations or had some impossible task to complete. in the midst of these challenges, i would somehow unintentionally cause a commotion by, for example, accidentally dropping very large, heavy objects from very high (while ascending aforementioned fantastical floating staircase), and very nearly injuring people below, especially close friends and family members. it was awful. and i felt helpless. (and, curiously, hungover. not sure what that was about.) so there you have it, friends, straight up fire trauma. just when i thought i was through the worst of it, this is what my subconscious shows me.
when i woke up, i felt haunted. i somehow couldn't escape the images of the dreams, and i still felt as unsafe and terrified and helpless as i did on those precarious stairs-that-weren't-really-stars or when i was trying to see what was once one of my childhood bedrooms through the curious reconstruction obscuring what i knew. and i couldn't seem to climb out of it or access any of the aspects of myself or shores i can usually wash onto when in such depths. the infrastructure of the me-within-me seemed as out of sorts as the interiors of my former homes. i was ceaselessly on the verge of tears and unable to focus. i tried to work, but was just unraveling. after i actually did burst into tears, my work wife* suggested that i take the afternoon off. truth was, i don't think i had much of a choice. you can't really come undone and continue to share an office. this was all quite unsettling. but rather than try to contain it, i decided to let myself fall apart a little. something i haven't really done since the fire. i've been so focused on being strong and keeping it together, that i've generally had zero tolerance for my hurt and trauma from all of this. this uncompromising position has been disappointing and problematic. primarily because i have been surprisingly hard on myself. especially by judging my response(s) to this. my mind will tell me that i've been through worse trauma and so beat up on my hummingbird heart for beating so fast over this. it's also been problematic because i think it has prevented me from letting go. so much easier to simply observe and acknowledge these emotions and then release them! rather than intellectualise and judge them and in so doing deny their existence or suppress them. and then they surface in the middle of the night to terrify you and make your morning bus ride to work feel like something out of dante's inferno. the former strategy is ever so much more effective. much better to greet or even embrace the emotions. hello, fear of hurting someone you love. kiss-kiss, helplessness. ahh, loneliness, let me give you a hug. then i can send you all on down the river and pull myself ashore and get on with living. so that's what i did yesterday afternoon.
rather than lose my wings or drown in something-like-sorrow [feel free to insert your own image], i decided to let myself fall apart in order to get it together. a beloved sister-friend suggested this to me. she calls it getting out of your own way. and really that's what it was. i came home, crawled into bed, listened to sad songs and just sobbed and let it all wash over me.** and then i stopped. went for a walk in the sunshine. smiled at life. got ready and hosted a lovely party for about 40 friends in our hutong that night. it was a glorious evening and a very successful gathering. but i don't think i could have carried it off without getting out of my own way that afternoon.
truth is, i ought to have known i was in trouble when i was roasting red peppers before 8:00 am that morning. for some reason, when i am really emotionally distraught and feeling bereft, i always want to cook. when i was deep in the pain of breaking up with little trouble last year, i obsessively baked. yesterday morning i ended up creating what i called 'dump truck roasted red pepper dip' because i just kind of made it up as i went along. it ended up being edible in the end, yummy even, but there were some close calls along the way. (i mean, at one point i microwaved a very small bit of fancy mozzarella to throw in. seriously. SJ, sometimes my catharsis is strange.) when i was up to my elbows in red pepper skins, i should have known i was in too deep. but i pushed on through my regularly scheduled day as best i could. and then did what was needed to recentre and resurface. and i've accepted that this is all progress. it is necessarily a gyre. and so we beat on.
i am now sitting in the courtyard, which has thankfully been tidied and no longer covered in wine bottles, glasses, pizza crusts, dump truck dip, cigarette butts and all the other messy glory of last night's leftovers. the opera singers are practicing in the park next door. and a neighbour is practicing the erhu.*** the skies are blue and streaked with clouds and evening will soon begin to gather herself together to get glam for her hot date with night. i will do the same. and nothing or no one, not even myself, can stand in my way anymore. next stop, wonderland.
*my partner in crime at work. she doesn't like it when i call her my boss. she's country director. i'm deputy country director. she's a wonderful colleague and friend. and we manage a small family. i once called her my work wife, and it just sort of stuck.
**for some reason, the song 'chasing cars' by snow patrol always, always makes me cry. absolutely no idea why.
***ok, so i'm painting a romantic picture, but really i hate the erhu. or strongly dislike anyway. not sure i hate anything. and this neighbour plays poorly. so it's actually really annoying. if he doesn't stop soon, i'll need to go inside or put on some jazz to combat the noise pollution. it's a jazzy kind of evening.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Friday, August 27, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
i believe in the question
this subject is profound, but also nonsensical. reminiscent, perhaps, of the play of the universe.* which is of course part of what makes life sacred.** the statement came from bill moyers, describing his religion / relationship to faith. i am in the final segment of the joseph campbell and bill moyers conversations on the power of myth. again, download and listen to it.**** it's fantastic. anyway, that line really spoke to me - i believe in the question! not only because i also believe in the question - i do - but also because i seem to often find myself talking about the importance of asking the right questions rather than having the right answers.
a little while later in that same conversation, joseph campbell tells a story that relates to the asking of questions. he is introduced to a catholic priest who is also a professor in a swimming pool. [please note i resisted all temptation to somehow turn this into a dirty priest joke. also, please note that this is simply the actual beginning of the story.] later on dry land, the priest asks j.c. whether he is also a priest. j.c. replies that he is not. he then asks whether he is a roman catholic. j.c. replies that he was. the priest then asks if he believes in a personal god. j.c. replies that he does not. the priest then asks whether he believes in the possibility of a personal god. j.c. replies with a question. saying, if i could answer that question, father, what would be the point of faith? the priest exits stage left. as j.c. (we're tight now, so it's ok to call him that. you can too.) considered this conversation, he noted that even in his very asking of the question about whether he believed in a personal god, the priest allows for the possibility that other kinds of gods / the sacred might exist. and so is it really the answer that provides us with solace, comfort, purpose? or the question. ahh, the power of the question.
but not all powerful and important questions are profound. take this one, for example, from xinhua. republished on the global times***** website. ladies and gentleman, drumroll please ... wait for it ... ahem - 'chinese vs foreign stars: who has most beautiful legs?' http://life.globaltimes.cn/entertainment/2010-08/562923.html. i stumbled across this gem quite by accident. but i couldn't help but laugh (1) because it's so ridiculous, (2) because xinhua is trying to be taken seriously in the media world, and (3) especially in light of (2) this was particularly amusing to me after just two weeks ago when an online xinhua story 'if hot stars were blackened' asked the all important question of what hot white stars would look like in blackface and posted pictures to show us all. a post from the china rises blog about this - http://blogs.mcclatchydc.com/china/2010/08/a-letter-to-xinhua-.html (and the link to a snapshot of the removed page - http://blogs.mcclatchydc.com/files/xinhua-copy-1.jpg). someone must have told xinhua that the blackface bit was offensive and not a fast ticket to being taken seriously, new offices in times square aside. thus far, the best legs piece is still there to stay, so please enjoy. and remember, it's not credible answers that count, but believing in the question.
*i once named a cat the sanskrit word which means 'the play of the universe' - leela. she was a lovely, sweet little kitty, but it was a bit too heavy a name for her. a lot to carry, really, if you're a small creature mainly concerned with maximizing opportunities for heavy petting and eating cheese. as that statement makes plain, leela and i were soul mates. she very tragically died an early and dramatic death, although her it wasn't the weight of her name that crushed her but a terrible and swiftly-moving blood disease. i was devastated. i had her cremated and buried her ashes in the garden at my parents' place. not far from clocean, actually. (still no linking, see post dated august 13, 2010 'on naming and spending' for an explanation of clocean, the modern art statute in the backyard.) i like to think of clocean watching over leela's spirit. then again leela - in the broader sense - is watching over us all. and smiling.
**an aside / a clarification: i am not a christian. at least not in any formal sense, although i think jesus had some good things to say and christianity has some nice (universal!) truths to consider. i say this because i recently received an email from someone who had read a recent post of mine in which he noted that he was not christian, but an atheist, so although he couldn't agree with my theology, he did subscribe to the wine-in-a-box school of spiritual growth. i wrote back explaining that i am not a christian and wondering what it was that i wrote that gave him that impression. i also noted that i was glad that at least we share the nirvana-lite-via-wine-in-a-box approach to life. otherwise the conversation may have needed to end there. speaking of conversations, i honestly don't really believe that people can be atheists. it is just entirely beyond the realm of something i can relate to or understand. this actually used to trouble little trouble a bit. he's allegedly an atheist (don't tell his family!). but i could never really accept or believe that. maybe what i can't believe is that people don't have a sense of the divine within them, that they can't feel the universal - god which we feebly call that for which there are no words - or experience themselves suspended as part of the whole. the whole being love, beauty, truth, everything. and also nothing. even if they only experience suggestions of these things in small, discreet moments. small, discreet corners of moments even. are there really people who have never experienced god? [i am using 'god' for the sake of convenience here. terrible, i know, because the word 'god' in this context is loaded and all wrong for what i'm talking about of course. but, SJ, this is a footnote and i need to wrap and tie soon and return to the primary narrative of this post which was meant to move me away from my hippy-dippy spirituality of late and return to simply smiling at life. or more precisely, life in china.] maybe there are such people. but i doubt it. in any case, i think i need to be more open-minded in this regard. telling atheists, 'i just don't believe you' isn't very kind. maybe i need to think of it in the same way i have come to accept that people can eat bananas in the afternoon or evening hours. to me, bananas are a breakfast fruit. this is part of my religious doctrine and i take it seriously. (i know it's a little weird, btw.) i just can't stomach the idea of (or literally stomach) bananas beyond breakfast. and i am always a little taken aback when i see people eating them in the late afternoon or evening.*** i honestly don't believe that deep down they also don't subscribe to my belief system and are feeling a little bit breakfast / cuckoo for cocoapuffs when eating them during the day. i know i am wrong about this. i really do. and so maybe i can see atheists in the same way i see afternoon banana-eaters. i will remain baffled, but can accept that somehow it works for them. very spiritually evolved of me.
***argh, footnoting a footnote again. poor form. but self-love. over it. this banana scripture of my mine is not without its challenges, especially when it comes to desserts and to plantains. on the former: i generally avoid banana-based desserts. when coerced into trying a bite of one, i am without fail disappointed. (and feeling a bit 7:30 am about it all.) when people are crazy enough to put banana in pavlova, i eat around it. on the latter: i sometimes try to see plantains and their ilk (plantain chips, e.g.) as non-bananas and therefore beyond breakfast. this rarely but occasionally works with very savoury-flavoured plantains. especially after a margarita or eight. i have sometimes found them to be very fine cross-over brunch fare. however, i also generally avoid them. [query: is this yet another reason i have absolutely zero interest in latin lovers and yet another sign that i was not meant to marry a latin man?] anyway, now that we've taken this nice little meander into meiling's neuroses, let's escape. look up.
****in another blogpost a friend fwded to me today, the writer extols her readers to take ambien and masturbate. i wonder if i would reach a wider audience if i encouraged people to do that. instead, i extol you all to listen to (or read) six hours of scintillating ruminations on faith, meaning, myth, ritual, heroes, goddesses, and love. it's worth it though. and afterwards you can masturbate and take ambien.
*****the global times is a sorry excuse of an english-language newspaper here in the motherland ostensibly to provide an independent voice on current affairs. it does not.
a little while later in that same conversation, joseph campbell tells a story that relates to the asking of questions. he is introduced to a catholic priest who is also a professor in a swimming pool. [please note i resisted all temptation to somehow turn this into a dirty priest joke. also, please note that this is simply the actual beginning of the story.] later on dry land, the priest asks j.c. whether he is also a priest. j.c. replies that he is not. he then asks whether he is a roman catholic. j.c. replies that he was. the priest then asks if he believes in a personal god. j.c. replies that he does not. the priest then asks whether he believes in the possibility of a personal god. j.c. replies with a question. saying, if i could answer that question, father, what would be the point of faith? the priest exits stage left. as j.c. (we're tight now, so it's ok to call him that. you can too.) considered this conversation, he noted that even in his very asking of the question about whether he believed in a personal god, the priest allows for the possibility that other kinds of gods / the sacred might exist. and so is it really the answer that provides us with solace, comfort, purpose? or the question. ahh, the power of the question.
but not all powerful and important questions are profound. take this one, for example, from xinhua. republished on the global times***** website. ladies and gentleman, drumroll please ... wait for it ... ahem - 'chinese vs foreign stars: who has most beautiful legs?' http://life.globaltimes.cn/entertainment/2010-08/562923.html. i stumbled across this gem quite by accident. but i couldn't help but laugh (1) because it's so ridiculous, (2) because xinhua is trying to be taken seriously in the media world, and (3) especially in light of (2) this was particularly amusing to me after just two weeks ago when an online xinhua story 'if hot stars were blackened' asked the all important question of what hot white stars would look like in blackface and posted pictures to show us all. a post from the china rises blog about this - http://blogs.mcclatchydc.com/china/2010/08/a-letter-to-xinhua-.html (and the link to a snapshot of the removed page - http://blogs.mcclatchydc.com/files/xinhua-copy-1.jpg). someone must have told xinhua that the blackface bit was offensive and not a fast ticket to being taken seriously, new offices in times square aside. thus far, the best legs piece is still there to stay, so please enjoy. and remember, it's not credible answers that count, but believing in the question.
*i once named a cat the sanskrit word which means 'the play of the universe' - leela. she was a lovely, sweet little kitty, but it was a bit too heavy a name for her. a lot to carry, really, if you're a small creature mainly concerned with maximizing opportunities for heavy petting and eating cheese. as that statement makes plain, leela and i were soul mates. she very tragically died an early and dramatic death, although her it wasn't the weight of her name that crushed her but a terrible and swiftly-moving blood disease. i was devastated. i had her cremated and buried her ashes in the garden at my parents' place. not far from clocean, actually. (still no linking, see post dated august 13, 2010 'on naming and spending' for an explanation of clocean, the modern art statute in the backyard.) i like to think of clocean watching over leela's spirit. then again leela - in the broader sense - is watching over us all. and smiling.
**an aside / a clarification: i am not a christian. at least not in any formal sense, although i think jesus had some good things to say and christianity has some nice (universal!) truths to consider. i say this because i recently received an email from someone who had read a recent post of mine in which he noted that he was not christian, but an atheist, so although he couldn't agree with my theology, he did subscribe to the wine-in-a-box school of spiritual growth. i wrote back explaining that i am not a christian and wondering what it was that i wrote that gave him that impression. i also noted that i was glad that at least we share the nirvana-lite-via-wine-in-a-box approach to life. otherwise the conversation may have needed to end there. speaking of conversations, i honestly don't really believe that people can be atheists. it is just entirely beyond the realm of something i can relate to or understand. this actually used to trouble little trouble a bit. he's allegedly an atheist (don't tell his family!). but i could never really accept or believe that. maybe what i can't believe is that people don't have a sense of the divine within them, that they can't feel the universal - god which we feebly call that for which there are no words - or experience themselves suspended as part of the whole. the whole being love, beauty, truth, everything. and also nothing. even if they only experience suggestions of these things in small, discreet moments. small, discreet corners of moments even. are there really people who have never experienced god? [i am using 'god' for the sake of convenience here. terrible, i know, because the word 'god' in this context is loaded and all wrong for what i'm talking about of course. but, SJ, this is a footnote and i need to wrap and tie soon and return to the primary narrative of this post which was meant to move me away from my hippy-dippy spirituality of late and return to simply smiling at life. or more precisely, life in china.] maybe there are such people. but i doubt it. in any case, i think i need to be more open-minded in this regard. telling atheists, 'i just don't believe you' isn't very kind. maybe i need to think of it in the same way i have come to accept that people can eat bananas in the afternoon or evening hours. to me, bananas are a breakfast fruit. this is part of my religious doctrine and i take it seriously. (i know it's a little weird, btw.) i just can't stomach the idea of (or literally stomach) bananas beyond breakfast. and i am always a little taken aback when i see people eating them in the late afternoon or evening.*** i honestly don't believe that deep down they also don't subscribe to my belief system and are feeling a little bit breakfast / cuckoo for cocoapuffs when eating them during the day. i know i am wrong about this. i really do. and so maybe i can see atheists in the same way i see afternoon banana-eaters. i will remain baffled, but can accept that somehow it works for them. very spiritually evolved of me.
***argh, footnoting a footnote again. poor form. but self-love. over it. this banana scripture of my mine is not without its challenges, especially when it comes to desserts and to plantains. on the former: i generally avoid banana-based desserts. when coerced into trying a bite of one, i am without fail disappointed. (and feeling a bit 7:30 am about it all.) when people are crazy enough to put banana in pavlova, i eat around it. on the latter: i sometimes try to see plantains and their ilk (plantain chips, e.g.) as non-bananas and therefore beyond breakfast. this rarely but occasionally works with very savoury-flavoured plantains. especially after a margarita or eight. i have sometimes found them to be very fine cross-over brunch fare. however, i also generally avoid them. [query: is this yet another reason i have absolutely zero interest in latin lovers and yet another sign that i was not meant to marry a latin man?] anyway, now that we've taken this nice little meander into meiling's neuroses, let's escape. look up.
****in another blogpost a friend fwded to me today, the writer extols her readers to take ambien and masturbate. i wonder if i would reach a wider audience if i encouraged people to do that. instead, i extol you all to listen to (or read) six hours of scintillating ruminations on faith, meaning, myth, ritual, heroes, goddesses, and love. it's worth it though. and afterwards you can masturbate and take ambien.
*****the global times is a sorry excuse of an english-language newspaper here in the motherland ostensibly to provide an independent voice on current affairs. it does not.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
raining the rigours of love
i am watching rain pouring down and appreciating it's triumphant patter on the slate stones in the courtyard, contemplating faith. and therefore love. just read an article that reminded me of a 'symposium' we held once in college. ahh to be young and pseudo-intellectual and into philosophy and religion! our symposiums involved selecting a topic for serious discussion, meeting in the rodin sculpture garden on campus - in front of 'the gates of hell' sculpture - at midnight and engaging in socratic debate for hours while consuming copious amounts of decidedly mediocre red wine. (i believe the quality of the debate deteriorated (or improved depending on your perspective on such things) in direct correlation to the quantity of wine consumed. and if we were drinking wine in a box, all bets were off on whether the conversation was intelligible, let alone intelligent.) there were sometimes readings involved to prep for symposiums - such as the grand inquisitor section of the brothers karamazov.* there was one night we met to discuss the question: can you believe in love if you don't believe in god or some transcendent power? it was along those lines anyway. this is the article i was just reading while listening to the rain: http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/08/the-rigor-of-love/. worth a read. here is possibly my favourite line: We might say love is that disciplined act of absolute spiritual daring that eviscerates the old self of externality so something new and inward can come into being.
i have been thinking about faith lately. i suppose i always am. it is so important to me. to who and why i am. but (i'd like to think) not in a showy or ostentatious way. it's more quiet, internal than that. more sacred if you will.
i've also been considering the importance of ritual and community of late. again, not new contemplations for me. but i suppose a necessary part of the meditation on love that i've now determined is my reason for returning to china. appropriate for examining context. on the recommendation of a friend - who took serious issue with my assessment of the priv-lit / eat pray love piece, btw** - i just downloaded joseph campbell's hero with a thousand faces or the power of myth, a transcript of his conversations with bill moyers of PBS. [i heart bill moyers.] according to my friend, campbell talks about how one of the reasons that we face existential crises these days is because we've lost the accumulated wisdom of tradition and the mystery of rituals and myths. we've got no greater context to situate ourselves in - not necessarily spiritual context mind you, but human context. oh joseph campbell and bill moyers chatting, i haven't even begun and i suspect that i could drink a case of you and sill be on my feet!
i am going to go for a long, rambling walk in the rain and rock out to a discussion of rituals, tradition, myth, context. all of which points to faith and love and the glory of raindrops and eternity. more to come on all of this. in other news, the all-female japanese punk band we saw last night - shonen knife - was incredibly awesome. may have to to first rock out to one of their songs to get the walk started with suitable rigour for thinking about the rigours of love.
*yes,this is what i did instead of going to frat parties in college. i am not kidding when i say i was a big dork. i still basically am. although now i prefer 'sexy nerd'. i don't think the 'sexy' bit had developed yet when i was an undergraduate. i wore bright colours and sparkles on a daily basis and had short, spiky electric blonde hair. please see the misfits from the cartoon 'gem & the holograms' (truly outrageous!) if you want an idea of my fashion sense. i also spent hours at a time by myself sitting under trees and reading hiedegger. yikes. sometimes i wonder how i managed to have any friends in college - and such wonderful amazing ones no less. i truly am blessed. and thankfully, somewhere along the way, some of these wonderful friends gently suggested that i lose the glitter. and that even rainbow brite embraced grey sometimes.
**he noted that men have always been encouraged to go off on spiritual quests or other adventures to find themselves, why not women? he has a point. and i agree. i think what i actually am concerned with is the commercialisation of that process and the mass-marketing of the need to find oneself and attendant industries that encourage women (read-society's real consumers) to spend money they don't have in the names of attaining some sort of inner peace that, in all honest truth, is already there within them. and they can access that spaciousness or calm or sacredness or whatever you want to call it, without the help of a life coast or a yoga retreat or such. it's just there waiting. in all of us. and there endth my sermon for saturday morning in the rain. om shanti.
i have been thinking about faith lately. i suppose i always am. it is so important to me. to who and why i am. but (i'd like to think) not in a showy or ostentatious way. it's more quiet, internal than that. more sacred if you will.
i've also been considering the importance of ritual and community of late. again, not new contemplations for me. but i suppose a necessary part of the meditation on love that i've now determined is my reason for returning to china. appropriate for examining context. on the recommendation of a friend - who took serious issue with my assessment of the priv-lit / eat pray love piece, btw** - i just downloaded joseph campbell's hero with a thousand faces or the power of myth, a transcript of his conversations with bill moyers of PBS. [i heart bill moyers.] according to my friend, campbell talks about how one of the reasons that we face existential crises these days is because we've lost the accumulated wisdom of tradition and the mystery of rituals and myths. we've got no greater context to situate ourselves in - not necessarily spiritual context mind you, but human context. oh joseph campbell and bill moyers chatting, i haven't even begun and i suspect that i could drink a case of you and sill be on my feet!
i am going to go for a long, rambling walk in the rain and rock out to a discussion of rituals, tradition, myth, context. all of which points to faith and love and the glory of raindrops and eternity. more to come on all of this. in other news, the all-female japanese punk band we saw last night - shonen knife - was incredibly awesome. may have to to first rock out to one of their songs to get the walk started with suitable rigour for thinking about the rigours of love.
*yes,this is what i did instead of going to frat parties in college. i am not kidding when i say i was a big dork. i still basically am. although now i prefer 'sexy nerd'. i don't think the 'sexy' bit had developed yet when i was an undergraduate. i wore bright colours and sparkles on a daily basis and had short, spiky electric blonde hair. please see the misfits from the cartoon 'gem & the holograms' (truly outrageous!) if you want an idea of my fashion sense. i also spent hours at a time by myself sitting under trees and reading hiedegger. yikes. sometimes i wonder how i managed to have any friends in college - and such wonderful amazing ones no less. i truly am blessed. and thankfully, somewhere along the way, some of these wonderful friends gently suggested that i lose the glitter. and that even rainbow brite embraced grey sometimes.
**he noted that men have always been encouraged to go off on spiritual quests or other adventures to find themselves, why not women? he has a point. and i agree. i think what i actually am concerned with is the commercialisation of that process and the mass-marketing of the need to find oneself and attendant industries that encourage women (read-society's real consumers) to spend money they don't have in the names of attaining some sort of inner peace that, in all honest truth, is already there within them. and they can access that spaciousness or calm or sacredness or whatever you want to call it, without the help of a life coast or a yoga retreat or such. it's just there waiting. in all of us. and there endth my sermon for saturday morning in the rain. om shanti.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
divine accidents
i just spent a weekend celebrating them. divine accidents, that is. with some of my nearest and dearest in napa valley. butting heads against the stars, laughing at the blind incongruous beast called youth, treasuring the intimacy that comes with years and in unexpected moments, intense laughter and endless tears, savouring delicious wines, enjoying the kiss of fresh sunshine, and folding comfortably into the embrace of friendship. it was magic. a most welcome escape from the northern capital. but also a reminder of what really matters. and in a very personal sense, where i have been and where i am going. what it is i seek. what is that, exactly? hmmmm. perhaps the means by which strength and grace combine. that, and a laugh with a friend over a wonderful glass of wine. (is there not overlap?)
returning to being has been an abrupt confrontation with poor air quality and general disappointment in state of things here. that being said, i believe that i have accepted on some level that whatever the conversation was that i began with this city seventeen years ago as a young lass must inevitably be concluded here. and the talk is not complete. and so i stay. and continue the conversation, staring beijing straight in the eye. with all that i abhor about it, the moments i adore, noting my inevitable retreat into the me-within-me and the colourful plumage. life will never come along and make me lower my gaze. perhaps i think about narrative arcs too much. i have been wondering about that of late. (though some would say that it is the thrust of one's narrative that counts, not the accuracy of one's details.)
my thinking about narrative, memories, love, faith, and a sincere, deep delight in life again has me contemplating how to best direct my enthusiasms. eventually it must combine my passions for public justice and performance. although when i look down upon it now, i can see so many possible tributaries, so many possible directions. which is, i suppose, the point of continuing the conversation.
in other news, if may was the month of momentum, i've decided that june is the month of embracing imperfections. after having a recurring dream about a cheeseburger, i found myself last weekend telling a waitress who was querying about dietary restrictions at one of the amazing meals we enjoyed, "i'm allergic to scallops, and i'm a vegetarian.... but i'll take the duck." it was delicious. as were a few bites of steak and cheeseburger the following night. somehow eating meat satiated some other desire that was stirred up a few weeks prior. remarkable, how the body works.
in truth, it's not about momentum, or imperfections, narrative arcs or desires anyway. i am hoping that by july i will be on the path of wu wei - effortless action - and just be.
returning to being has been an abrupt confrontation with poor air quality and general disappointment in state of things here. that being said, i believe that i have accepted on some level that whatever the conversation was that i began with this city seventeen years ago as a young lass must inevitably be concluded here. and the talk is not complete. and so i stay. and continue the conversation, staring beijing straight in the eye. with all that i abhor about it, the moments i adore, noting my inevitable retreat into the me-within-me and the colourful plumage. life will never come along and make me lower my gaze. perhaps i think about narrative arcs too much. i have been wondering about that of late. (though some would say that it is the thrust of one's narrative that counts, not the accuracy of one's details.)
my thinking about narrative, memories, love, faith, and a sincere, deep delight in life again has me contemplating how to best direct my enthusiasms. eventually it must combine my passions for public justice and performance. although when i look down upon it now, i can see so many possible tributaries, so many possible directions. which is, i suppose, the point of continuing the conversation.
in other news, if may was the month of momentum, i've decided that june is the month of embracing imperfections. after having a recurring dream about a cheeseburger, i found myself last weekend telling a waitress who was querying about dietary restrictions at one of the amazing meals we enjoyed, "i'm allergic to scallops, and i'm a vegetarian.... but i'll take the duck." it was delicious. as were a few bites of steak and cheeseburger the following night. somehow eating meat satiated some other desire that was stirred up a few weeks prior. remarkable, how the body works.
in truth, it's not about momentum, or imperfections, narrative arcs or desires anyway. i am hoping that by july i will be on the path of wu wei - effortless action - and just be.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
impossible things
one of my favourite lines from through the looking glass is the white queen's - "why, sometimes i've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." just prior to that pronouncement she had been chiding alice for proclaiming that one can't believe impossible things with: "'i daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the queen. 'when i was your age, i always did it for half-an-hour a day.'" it was children's day on tuesday, and i found myself in a conversation about the buoyant nature of a child's spirit. and how we ought to hold onto that as adults. i couldn't help but think as i listened that the buoyant spirit of my childhood is still fairly close to the surface. i am thankful for that undercurrent of joy and silliness. and glad i don't take myself too seriously even as an adult. and then i recalled alice and the scene with the white queen,* and realized that i still have a lot of practice believing in impossible things. in fact, i may have believed at least three impossible things before breakfast this morning. it really improved the walk to the bus.
curiously, things are not crazy at work this week. or next. in fact, these might be the quietest two weeks i've experienced. it's a little unsettling. and has me magical thinking, believing the impossible, and over-thinking. if only i could make a career of that. actually, to be fair, i am keeping myself otherwise occupied. as per usual, however, once i have a little bit of time to devote to my myriad ideas for side projects / creative endeavours, i get caught at the outset, unsure which to pursue. the trick of course, is just to pursue. kind of like faith. we can spend far too much time strutting and fretting about finding or choosing a spiritual path or a faith. really, it's not the form so much as the substance that matters. a thought i collected somewhere on this:
listen to jesus and to buddha and to mohamed, but do not get caught up in the names. listen to god's breath.
i recognise that many would not agree with me on this point. the main reason we humans seem to murder or abuse each other has to do with disagreements about faith. clearly no one involved in such conflicts is listening to god's breath. speaking of which, i was awoken the other night by an amazing thunderstorm. it was simply radiant. all sound and fury, wind and love, lightning and hope, branches thrashing, rain falling, hearts dancing. i opened my curtains and turned off the air filter just to allow it to wash over me in my bed and listen more closely. (i of course contemplated running out to dance in the downpour, but reason conquered passion and i appreciated it from under the covers.)
and with that, i shall delay no further, keep listening, believing impossible things, and pursue.
*incidentally, this is also the scene where, shortly after this exchange, the white queen turns into a sheep. i wonder how much time sheep spend believing impossible things.
curiously, things are not crazy at work this week. or next. in fact, these might be the quietest two weeks i've experienced. it's a little unsettling. and has me magical thinking, believing the impossible, and over-thinking. if only i could make a career of that. actually, to be fair, i am keeping myself otherwise occupied. as per usual, however, once i have a little bit of time to devote to my myriad ideas for side projects / creative endeavours, i get caught at the outset, unsure which to pursue. the trick of course, is just to pursue. kind of like faith. we can spend far too much time strutting and fretting about finding or choosing a spiritual path or a faith. really, it's not the form so much as the substance that matters. a thought i collected somewhere on this:
listen to jesus and to buddha and to mohamed, but do not get caught up in the names. listen to god's breath.
i recognise that many would not agree with me on this point. the main reason we humans seem to murder or abuse each other has to do with disagreements about faith. clearly no one involved in such conflicts is listening to god's breath. speaking of which, i was awoken the other night by an amazing thunderstorm. it was simply radiant. all sound and fury, wind and love, lightning and hope, branches thrashing, rain falling, hearts dancing. i opened my curtains and turned off the air filter just to allow it to wash over me in my bed and listen more closely. (i of course contemplated running out to dance in the downpour, but reason conquered passion and i appreciated it from under the covers.)
and with that, i shall delay no further, keep listening, believing impossible things, and pursue.
*incidentally, this is also the scene where, shortly after this exchange, the white queen turns into a sheep. i wonder how much time sheep spend believing impossible things.
Friday, May 14, 2010
unexpected perspective
i was walking home down the hutong just now when the beer lady biked past, calling out her goods in a singsong rhythm - mai pijiu, eh, mai pijiu, eh, mai pijiu - selling beer, eh, selling beer, eh, selling beer. it was somehow so soothing and simple that it made me stop walking and smile. until that moment, i had been feeling overwhelmingly exhausted. the cheerless grey skies and light drizzle hadn't been helping my mood. illuminating how in an instant all of one's internal clouds can scatter, even if we have scant control over the actual skies (workers in beijing's weather modification office of course excepted from this statement). the beer lady unwittingly re-energized me for the evening.*
yesterday evening i caught up with a dear friend briefly in beijing for work. reminded me again of the enduring value of friendship and the intimacy that can only come with time and consistent compassion. she delivered some difficult news, which contributed to my feeling tired and distraught today. but, as usual, something small and unexpected - the beer lady! - put it all in perspective.
my flatmate asked me this morning to describe myself in one word. i'm not sure why. i answered without taking time to think and my answer was "hopeful". i think that's accurate. and with that, i ought to sashay hopefully off into the some enchanted evening that is tonight.
*although i confess that the massive coffee i was carrying along may have also had something to do with it. in my state of overwhelming exhaustion, i broke my rule about no afternoon coffees. but so goes the world. rules were made to be broken and moderation is overrated and all the rest.
yesterday evening i caught up with a dear friend briefly in beijing for work. reminded me again of the enduring value of friendship and the intimacy that can only come with time and consistent compassion. she delivered some difficult news, which contributed to my feeling tired and distraught today. but, as usual, something small and unexpected - the beer lady! - put it all in perspective.
my flatmate asked me this morning to describe myself in one word. i'm not sure why. i answered without taking time to think and my answer was "hopeful". i think that's accurate. and with that, i ought to sashay hopefully off into the some enchanted evening that is tonight.
*although i confess that the massive coffee i was carrying along may have also had something to do with it. in my state of overwhelming exhaustion, i broke my rule about no afternoon coffees. but so goes the world. rules were made to be broken and moderation is overrated and all the rest.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
memories and magical thinking
i have been thinking lately about the nourishment of memories. how they can sustain and inspire us in moments both unexpected and carefully arranged. whether they push us over in unguarded moments or whether we seek them out, collect and order them in tidy mental rows, they can provide a quiet sustenance. they can of course also haunt us, but i am not speaking of those kind of memories here. i am speaking of the friendly ghosts. the memories that float up and embrace you or stroke your hair from your face, look you in the eyes, and tell you you are loved.
some say that life is nothing but a series of moments, of those memories that nourish us, i suppose. perhaps this is true because moments (memories) are wholly our own. and we can edit and rearrange them to suit our constantly evolving personal narrative. that process gives us a sense of control* over our experiences and how they influence and help us to interpret who and why we are. this was something i struggled with a great deal in trying to come to terms with an experience i had as a young girl that i simply wish had never happened but couldn't deny had forever altered me. how can you love yourself and who you are without accepting said experience? how can you take ownership of something impossibly heavy and incorporate it into your sparkleicious lightness? . . . for what other purpose do we have an inner life?
another reason memories can nourish is they are among the most personal parts of our inner lives. which, incidentally, are generally underrated. of course, having a vibrant inner life is not something that can be measured and thus valued by society, your peers, anyone. which is precisely the point. but 'tis still a shame. i sometimes have moments of wanting to be deeply ambitious. (and i suppose in a sense i am.** but not in a terribly conventional sense. i have moments of wanting to rise to the top of some commercial, male-dominated industry. or make buckets of money. as a woman. just to prove that i can. as a woman. (it actually has very little to do with me personally.) but i can never ultimately see the joy or purpose in that. and i don't think spite is a very compelling motivation.) but, those moments aside, i feel the way our accomplishments are judged are all so outward and ignore the riches that can and do lie within. you can't exactly put "vibrant inner life" on your resume.
and i fear i may be starting to sound dangerously new-agey. although, to be fair, i'm not really sure what that means. little trouble used to tell me sometimes that i had hippie in my dna and he thought it was cute when that showed through, when certain cultural assumptions of mine would startle him.
something i have noted about my own inner life is my capacity for wonder and fantasy. perhaps we all share this. but i have always had a vibrant and not-easily-contained imagination.*** possibly more universal is our capacity in times of grieving to veer towards what joan didion calls "magical thinking".**** my current confusion and grief pales in comparison to the loss of a husband and a daughter's coma that she wrote about in establishing the idea of magical thinking - that grief makes us crazy. i have watched my already too-creative-for-where-i-am mind think (improbably! beautifully!) magically of late. i have observed the lines between what is actually happening and what could, what has already happened and what never will, sleep and awake, possible and other worldly, accurate and mystical, become blurred. and not been all that surprised or disturbed by it.
yet i also wonder if i think magically even when not grieving. among the many reasons that i thought little trouble was the one was his capacity to accept my imaginary pets. or roll right along with me when i veered from this reality off into another dimension and described it excitedly. he always came along, and in fact encouraged my capacity for magical thinking. i have never known another man to do so.
it is only fitting, therefore, that i am thinking magically now. and i am still wishing to share it. both the thinking and the magic. instead, i am being sustained by memories.
* can't resist a brian andreas quote: If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you.
** i resolved, btw, the cities dilemma of a few posts back. as long as i call new york the big apple, i can maintain the alliteration / aural appeal and still build a life dividing my time between beijing, beirut, and nyc.
*** why i chose a career path that very often involves its active suppression is another story. and to illustrate that point, a story. my legal writing tutor during my first year of law school opened our first writing feedback meeting by telling me that i wrote beautifully. the problem, she noted, was "you write like flower" (complete with a large, two-handed gesture recalling petals), and "lawyers don't write like flower; we are linear thinkers." (confession: i still write like flower when i can. they couldn't stomp it out of me.)
**** last starry footnote i promise. the review of her book, the year of magical thinking is here: http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/09/books/review/09pinsky.html. incidentally, speaking of memories, i remember seeing the version of this book made into a play and performed by vanessa redgrave with some very dear friends in nyc. how far we have all come since that night! how many storms we have weathered! and still we beat on, boats against a current..... and the rest.
some say that life is nothing but a series of moments, of those memories that nourish us, i suppose. perhaps this is true because moments (memories) are wholly our own. and we can edit and rearrange them to suit our constantly evolving personal narrative. that process gives us a sense of control* over our experiences and how they influence and help us to interpret who and why we are. this was something i struggled with a great deal in trying to come to terms with an experience i had as a young girl that i simply wish had never happened but couldn't deny had forever altered me. how can you love yourself and who you are without accepting said experience? how can you take ownership of something impossibly heavy and incorporate it into your sparkleicious lightness? . . . for what other purpose do we have an inner life?
another reason memories can nourish is they are among the most personal parts of our inner lives. which, incidentally, are generally underrated. of course, having a vibrant inner life is not something that can be measured and thus valued by society, your peers, anyone. which is precisely the point. but 'tis still a shame. i sometimes have moments of wanting to be deeply ambitious. (and i suppose in a sense i am.** but not in a terribly conventional sense. i have moments of wanting to rise to the top of some commercial, male-dominated industry. or make buckets of money. as a woman. just to prove that i can. as a woman. (it actually has very little to do with me personally.) but i can never ultimately see the joy or purpose in that. and i don't think spite is a very compelling motivation.) but, those moments aside, i feel the way our accomplishments are judged are all so outward and ignore the riches that can and do lie within. you can't exactly put "vibrant inner life" on your resume.
and i fear i may be starting to sound dangerously new-agey. although, to be fair, i'm not really sure what that means. little trouble used to tell me sometimes that i had hippie in my dna and he thought it was cute when that showed through, when certain cultural assumptions of mine would startle him.
something i have noted about my own inner life is my capacity for wonder and fantasy. perhaps we all share this. but i have always had a vibrant and not-easily-contained imagination.*** possibly more universal is our capacity in times of grieving to veer towards what joan didion calls "magical thinking".**** my current confusion and grief pales in comparison to the loss of a husband and a daughter's coma that she wrote about in establishing the idea of magical thinking - that grief makes us crazy. i have watched my already too-creative-for-where-i-am mind think (improbably! beautifully!) magically of late. i have observed the lines between what is actually happening and what could, what has already happened and what never will, sleep and awake, possible and other worldly, accurate and mystical, become blurred. and not been all that surprised or disturbed by it.
yet i also wonder if i think magically even when not grieving. among the many reasons that i thought little trouble was the one was his capacity to accept my imaginary pets. or roll right along with me when i veered from this reality off into another dimension and described it excitedly. he always came along, and in fact encouraged my capacity for magical thinking. i have never known another man to do so.
it is only fitting, therefore, that i am thinking magically now. and i am still wishing to share it. both the thinking and the magic. instead, i am being sustained by memories.
* can't resist a brian andreas quote: If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you.
** i resolved, btw, the cities dilemma of a few posts back. as long as i call new york the big apple, i can maintain the alliteration / aural appeal and still build a life dividing my time between beijing, beirut, and nyc.
*** why i chose a career path that very often involves its active suppression is another story. and to illustrate that point, a story. my legal writing tutor during my first year of law school opened our first writing feedback meeting by telling me that i wrote beautifully. the problem, she noted, was "you write like flower" (complete with a large, two-handed gesture recalling petals), and "lawyers don't write like flower; we are linear thinkers." (confession: i still write like flower when i can. they couldn't stomp it out of me.)
**** last starry footnote i promise. the review of her book, the year of magical thinking is here: http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/09/books/review/09pinsky.html. incidentally, speaking of memories, i remember seeing the version of this book made into a play and performed by vanessa redgrave with some very dear friends in nyc. how far we have all come since that night! how many storms we have weathered! and still we beat on, boats against a current..... and the rest.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
productivity and sugarplums
i was up early as usual this morning, but somehow didn't want to do yoga or run or ponder the moon in the still dark sky (the activities that typically occupy my time between 6:00 and 7:30 am). i almost wanted the time to be unproductive, and thought about going back to sleep. in the conversation i mentioned the other day about what 'being gentle to yourself' means, one friend said that being gentle to herself meant allowing for unplanned or unproductive time. i thought it an interesting observation. in our crowded, sunlit lifetimes we can forget to take time to just be. another friend of mine in new york used to add two-hour blocs of "do nothing" into her blackberry schedule just to remind herself to once in awhile let go. while i am not quite at that level, i need to remind myself that taking a morning to just be with myself (and my most recent whirring thoughts) is in itself productive.
'tis the season for productivity in a sense. elves are meant to be working overtime. we are encouraged to consume, consume, consume. and therein find some connection with the ineffable. perhaps not. once a upon a lifetime, one was fairly cushioned from christmas chaos in china. not so anymore, i have discovered. christmas has barfed all over beijing. that's the best way i can describe it. or at least barfed all over the shopping complex / mixed use office building in which i work such that i have to elbow my way through the ooze just to find a quiet corner to eat lunch or go to the atm or buy a snack. and even in the quiet spaces you can hear jingle bells playing. china's embrace of christmas is at once entirely baffling and utterly predictable. baffling because this is technically an atheist country* and the current christmasness is in marked contrast to the utter lack thereof when i was growing up here. predictable because, spirituality aside, if there's one thing the people's republic currently worships, it's consumerism. so i think china's dreaming of a very commercial christmas - more about sugar daddies than sugarplum faeries.
a british friend who is here with one of the EU projects recently recounted her experience around this time last year when she decided to ask a few colleagues if they knew what christmas was about. (short answer: they didn't.) she then told them the story of the birth of christ. they were amazed. "that's a really good story," one said, "but what about the fat man, santa, was he also one of the wise men?"
beijing has come along way from the bleak cabbaged christmases of my youth. i still remember the first year christmas trees were available in beijing, and my father and i were sent off to find the family tree. there was only one place to go for trees – the parking lot next to the german hotel which housed beijing’s best international supermarket - and there were certainly not fake trees encouraging consumption all over town as there are today. ba and i set out on our family kwau zi - a motorcycle inspired by German military models from world war II, with a very fetching sidecar and fake BMW insignias - with some twine in the sidecar’s small trunk. i rode in the sidecar as we set out. (i loved the sidecar.) we discovered that the christmas tree market was not very robust. nonetheless, we took our time. my father and i were perhaps not the best choice for this mission. having similarly contemplative natures, the was much to consider. the first tree we saw was excellent in a relative sense – decently shaped, not entirely unevenly distributed branches, moderately covered in needles, and at four feet high, a good size for our flat. but we didn’t want to go with the first tree we saw. we wanted to be sure that we found the very best tree. so we inspected each and every other tree in the lot, considering and commenting on their merits, much to the amusement of the staff. still not satisfied, we got back on our bike, adjusted our helmets and goggles, and drove to another place rumoured to possibly have shrubs resembling christmas trees in stock. they did not. so we returned to the original lot and re-examined the trees there. then, exhausted from all of this examining, we had a snack. eventually, we selected the first tree we had seen.
tree selected, there was the issue of transport. the plan was that we’d load the tree into the sidecar, securing it with twine. christmas trees, even petite ones, are not really designed to sit comfortably in motorcycle sidecars, twine or no twine. so i ended up riding home on the seat behind my ba, holding onto the bike with one hand and leaning slightly to the side, holding onto the tree with the other hand. this was probably not the safest way to travel. when we finally made it home with the tree hours after we had set out, my mother was not impressed. she could not fathom how it could have possibly taken us so long and was worried about the fading light for the family christmas picture. we tried to point out that we had found the very best tree in beijing. she looked from the tree to us and back again and said nothing. she didn’t need to speak, her look exposed us for having spent an entire saturday staring at scrawny, shapeless piney things in the freezing cold just as an excuse to ride our kwau zi. we didn’t care though; we were really impressed with our transport job. and the tree looked good-ish when hidden under layers of ornaments in the corner, even if the shadows in the christmas photo were longer than planned.
i am sure there is a surplus of christmas trees in beijing this year. there seems to be a surplus of everything. although the magical christmas market seems to be hiding somewhere with the elves. when i asked a server at our lunch restaurant today where she got her fabulous headpiece - a red headband with two springs supporting santa heads which bobbled delightedly as she moved - she said she didn't know. the restaurant had got it at the same place they got all of the other christmas baubles that were covering the walls and the rest of the waitstaff and she didn't know where it was. oh well. i pushed my way past the tree, the giant santa, five golden rings, partridge and pear tree blocking the restaurant's entrance, and went on with my day. i will be content to just be and not worry about productive decoration this season.
*one of my favourite alleged li peng quotes is his using china's atheism as a shield at a press conference. i cannot verify the veracity of this statement and this may very well be an urban myth spread by the active imaginations of the beijing expat community in the 1990s. it's telling even so. the then premier's statement was in response to a journalist pressing li peng on china’s human rights record and asking about how the government could justify a particular recent action. li peng calmly listened to the question, didn’t even blink, and stated: “we’re atheists; we can do that.”
'tis the season for productivity in a sense. elves are meant to be working overtime. we are encouraged to consume, consume, consume. and therein find some connection with the ineffable. perhaps not. once a upon a lifetime, one was fairly cushioned from christmas chaos in china. not so anymore, i have discovered. christmas has barfed all over beijing. that's the best way i can describe it. or at least barfed all over the shopping complex / mixed use office building in which i work such that i have to elbow my way through the ooze just to find a quiet corner to eat lunch or go to the atm or buy a snack. and even in the quiet spaces you can hear jingle bells playing. china's embrace of christmas is at once entirely baffling and utterly predictable. baffling because this is technically an atheist country* and the current christmasness is in marked contrast to the utter lack thereof when i was growing up here. predictable because, spirituality aside, if there's one thing the people's republic currently worships, it's consumerism. so i think china's dreaming of a very commercial christmas - more about sugar daddies than sugarplum faeries.
a british friend who is here with one of the EU projects recently recounted her experience around this time last year when she decided to ask a few colleagues if they knew what christmas was about. (short answer: they didn't.) she then told them the story of the birth of christ. they were amazed. "that's a really good story," one said, "but what about the fat man, santa, was he also one of the wise men?"
beijing has come along way from the bleak cabbaged christmases of my youth. i still remember the first year christmas trees were available in beijing, and my father and i were sent off to find the family tree. there was only one place to go for trees – the parking lot next to the german hotel which housed beijing’s best international supermarket - and there were certainly not fake trees encouraging consumption all over town as there are today. ba and i set out on our family kwau zi - a motorcycle inspired by German military models from world war II, with a very fetching sidecar and fake BMW insignias - with some twine in the sidecar’s small trunk. i rode in the sidecar as we set out. (i loved the sidecar.) we discovered that the christmas tree market was not very robust. nonetheless, we took our time. my father and i were perhaps not the best choice for this mission. having similarly contemplative natures, the was much to consider. the first tree we saw was excellent in a relative sense – decently shaped, not entirely unevenly distributed branches, moderately covered in needles, and at four feet high, a good size for our flat. but we didn’t want to go with the first tree we saw. we wanted to be sure that we found the very best tree. so we inspected each and every other tree in the lot, considering and commenting on their merits, much to the amusement of the staff. still not satisfied, we got back on our bike, adjusted our helmets and goggles, and drove to another place rumoured to possibly have shrubs resembling christmas trees in stock. they did not. so we returned to the original lot and re-examined the trees there. then, exhausted from all of this examining, we had a snack. eventually, we selected the first tree we had seen.
tree selected, there was the issue of transport. the plan was that we’d load the tree into the sidecar, securing it with twine. christmas trees, even petite ones, are not really designed to sit comfortably in motorcycle sidecars, twine or no twine. so i ended up riding home on the seat behind my ba, holding onto the bike with one hand and leaning slightly to the side, holding onto the tree with the other hand. this was probably not the safest way to travel. when we finally made it home with the tree hours after we had set out, my mother was not impressed. she could not fathom how it could have possibly taken us so long and was worried about the fading light for the family christmas picture. we tried to point out that we had found the very best tree in beijing. she looked from the tree to us and back again and said nothing. she didn’t need to speak, her look exposed us for having spent an entire saturday staring at scrawny, shapeless piney things in the freezing cold just as an excuse to ride our kwau zi. we didn’t care though; we were really impressed with our transport job. and the tree looked good-ish when hidden under layers of ornaments in the corner, even if the shadows in the christmas photo were longer than planned.
i am sure there is a surplus of christmas trees in beijing this year. there seems to be a surplus of everything. although the magical christmas market seems to be hiding somewhere with the elves. when i asked a server at our lunch restaurant today where she got her fabulous headpiece - a red headband with two springs supporting santa heads which bobbled delightedly as she moved - she said she didn't know. the restaurant had got it at the same place they got all of the other christmas baubles that were covering the walls and the rest of the waitstaff and she didn't know where it was. oh well. i pushed my way past the tree, the giant santa, five golden rings, partridge and pear tree blocking the restaurant's entrance, and went on with my day. i will be content to just be and not worry about productive decoration this season.
*one of my favourite alleged li peng quotes is his using china's atheism as a shield at a press conference. i cannot verify the veracity of this statement and this may very well be an urban myth spread by the active imaginations of the beijing expat community in the 1990s. it's telling even so. the then premier's statement was in response to a journalist pressing li peng on china’s human rights record and asking about how the government could justify a particular recent action. li peng calmly listened to the question, didn’t even blink, and stated: “we’re atheists; we can do that.”
Friday, November 20, 2009
finding space(s) for faith
yesterday one my colleagues asked me what i thought of obama's visit to china. after expressing my disappointment, i asked what her impressions were. she said that she hadn't paid much attention to the particulars of what the leaders of the G2 said, but she was struck by her personal experiences as a christian leading up to his arrival. she is a member of one of beijing's many "home churches". these are unregistered congregations that seek to worshio free from government interference or control. as she explained, they don't want to be registered and her small church in fact recently broke off from a larger unregistered home church so as to be less visible and therefore have greater space for their faith. faith is something that the party fears. they fear antyhing that can threaten or usurp their absolute authority. but faith is especially dangerous because it can lead to expansive thinking and spiritual awareness that can completely overwhelm the party's soulless, corporatist, nationalistic dogma and reveal it for the empty rhetoric and thinly veiled means of maintaining power that it is.
members of beijing's home churches were closely watched for two weeks prior to obama's visit. people were followed (especially pastors and church leaders), their communications monitored, and church meeting places were closed. one sunday prior to obama's arrival, the larger home church my colleague had originally been a member of was prevented from holding services in their normal location because the police had barricaded the building and informed them that they were not permitted to worship there. the congregation gathered in a nearby park instead. it was bitterly cold and snowing (thanks also to government interference, although the weather modification office was operating independently of the public security church suppression task force*). my colleague described to me how they held services in the falling snow, with the police observing them nearby. i found it so moving, and so symbolic somehow.
symbolic in the sense that faith is at once greater than the snow and the snow itself. and it is certainly stronger than the watchful public security. there occasionally rises chatter about the current struggle for the 'soul' of china. the ccp has had an iron efficient vise-grip on the country's spirit for so long. and although some say economic growth required some loosening, i think of it more as just a strategic shift. rather than clap down directly, the party carefully crafted a steel net to contain her people - allowing enough from for corporatism and greed, but controlling information and thought sufficiently to secure their power. faith slips through that net, though.
the conversation with my colleague inevitably turned to the falungong. no conversation about religous freedom in china is complete without at lease some mention of this most curious collection of spiritual practitioners. i confessed that i find some of their beliefs quite strange, but said that doesn't make them a cult. the chinese government's brutal response to this group demonstrates their fear of faith. or at least faith that involves worship of anything other than china, getting rich, and the communist party.
my colleague wondered why she hadn't heard mention of obama bringing up the suppression of christians or religious freedom. i suggested that it would be part of february's us-china human rights dialogue as it has been in past dialogues. she noted without surpirse that the suppression of beijing's home churches in advance of the president's visit was not reported in the local press. i assured her that it received some foreign coverage. i also told her that the pastor who leads the home church alliance was detained in advance of the visit. she didn't believe that though. maybe faith can only provide so much perspective. :).
faith is most miraculous and, much to the ccp's dismay, cannot easily be contained. and yet, in our pathetic way, we are always trying to conain it or measure it or squeeze it into a frame of reference we can readily understand. i found myself thinking about this morning as i read an article about competitive yoga tournaments and a movement to have yoga added as an olympic sport. (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/19/fashion/19fitness.html?pagewanted=1) the promoters acknowledge that the competitions only judge the physical aspect of yoga, not spirituality. indeed, how to you measure inner growth, wholeness, goodness? while running this morning, i was thinking about those subjects and whether i am able to cultivate the same sense of spaciousness through running as i can through asana. once again i resolved to practice daily. though i yearn for a teacher (and thus far have had no luck finding one in beijing), that is not an excuse.
there are always ready excuses to avoiding true spiritual growth. but doing so i believe eventually comes back to haunt you. i hope that one day the ccp learns this lesson the hard way.
*the former (weather modification office) is real, the latter (public security church suppression task force) is a term i made up but it very well may exist!
members of beijing's home churches were closely watched for two weeks prior to obama's visit. people were followed (especially pastors and church leaders), their communications monitored, and church meeting places were closed. one sunday prior to obama's arrival, the larger home church my colleague had originally been a member of was prevented from holding services in their normal location because the police had barricaded the building and informed them that they were not permitted to worship there. the congregation gathered in a nearby park instead. it was bitterly cold and snowing (thanks also to government interference, although the weather modification office was operating independently of the public security church suppression task force*). my colleague described to me how they held services in the falling snow, with the police observing them nearby. i found it so moving, and so symbolic somehow.
symbolic in the sense that faith is at once greater than the snow and the snow itself. and it is certainly stronger than the watchful public security. there occasionally rises chatter about the current struggle for the 'soul' of china. the ccp has had an iron efficient vise-grip on the country's spirit for so long. and although some say economic growth required some loosening, i think of it more as just a strategic shift. rather than clap down directly, the party carefully crafted a steel net to contain her people - allowing enough from for corporatism and greed, but controlling information and thought sufficiently to secure their power. faith slips through that net, though.
the conversation with my colleague inevitably turned to the falungong. no conversation about religous freedom in china is complete without at lease some mention of this most curious collection of spiritual practitioners. i confessed that i find some of their beliefs quite strange, but said that doesn't make them a cult. the chinese government's brutal response to this group demonstrates their fear of faith. or at least faith that involves worship of anything other than china, getting rich, and the communist party.
my colleague wondered why she hadn't heard mention of obama bringing up the suppression of christians or religious freedom. i suggested that it would be part of february's us-china human rights dialogue as it has been in past dialogues. she noted without surpirse that the suppression of beijing's home churches in advance of the president's visit was not reported in the local press. i assured her that it received some foreign coverage. i also told her that the pastor who leads the home church alliance was detained in advance of the visit. she didn't believe that though. maybe faith can only provide so much perspective. :).
faith is most miraculous and, much to the ccp's dismay, cannot easily be contained. and yet, in our pathetic way, we are always trying to conain it or measure it or squeeze it into a frame of reference we can readily understand. i found myself thinking about this morning as i read an article about competitive yoga tournaments and a movement to have yoga added as an olympic sport. (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/19/fashion/19fitness.html?pagewanted=1) the promoters acknowledge that the competitions only judge the physical aspect of yoga, not spirituality. indeed, how to you measure inner growth, wholeness, goodness? while running this morning, i was thinking about those subjects and whether i am able to cultivate the same sense of spaciousness through running as i can through asana. once again i resolved to practice daily. though i yearn for a teacher (and thus far have had no luck finding one in beijing), that is not an excuse.
there are always ready excuses to avoiding true spiritual growth. but doing so i believe eventually comes back to haunt you. i hope that one day the ccp learns this lesson the hard way.
*the former (weather modification office) is real, the latter (public security church suppression task force) is a term i made up but it very well may exist!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
forget regrets, or life is yours to miss
my father once had me write a letter to my future self, address an envelope and everything. i believe i was eight when i wrote it and he sent it to me when i was ten or eleven. in the letter, i told myself of my hopes and my dreams, my great expectations for us. enough time had passed by the time he posted it that i had no memory of having written it and did not recognize my own handwriting. i remember that i was actually well into reading it before i realized that it was from me. and then i was surprised, for i had thought it was from a forgotten friend. but i suppose, in a way, that it was.
for some reason i have lately been yearning to receive such a letter from my future self. or i have been thinking about what i would say to my younger self. i'm not sure which self exactly - of five years ago, or three, or yesterday. but more than wanting to write to my past jumble of selves, i want my future self, glorious friend that she is, to write to me now as i am stuck in this moment of my life. i know she would be full of good advice and kind words (and i may even be able to channel them if i try hard enough which is perhaps why i have been contemplating writing to my younger selves). and she would be funny, and kind, and smile at all of my to-ing and fro-ing and overthinking. i realize, perhaps now in this very moment for the first time, that being back in beijing has prompted a great deal of reflection on the woman i have become, and where i am going. it is almost coming full circle to be in this city again. my most formative years were here and it is where i started to grow up - to transition from being a girl to being a woman - and where some innocence was lost - both tragically and less so - and some perspective gained - of all sorts. i wonder if this is the city where i will complete this process. (insofar as i ever intend to fully grow up, that is. if it means you can't believe in faeries or breakfast desert, forget about it.)
[ironically, this was to be the post in which i stopped trying to write about china.]
i find myself at once consumed with broad questions of being and small minutiae of practicalities almost daily. i find it easier to focus on the latter. never have i taken such pride in washing the dishes, putting clutter in its place, ordering my books, shuffling the sock drawer. and i have a strange urge to bake. today's endeavour - wholewheat pomegranate ginger bread - which somehow also involved my attempting to make my own crystallized ginger. the challenges of sugar and fresh ginger, socks and soapy forks seem so satisfyingly surmountable. and yet, even as i am up to my elbow in batter or bookshelves, the broader questions remain. will it always be this way? and, what precisely are those broader questions?
maybe the reason i want a letter from my future self is to answer those questions. i want her to tell me that one day i will get there - wherever it is i am meant to be. but she will also likely tell me that it is not so different from where i am now. and the small fragments that make up a person won't have changed much. i will still laugh with dogs in the street, and have a glass of wine more than i ought to on occasion. i will still not be as stylish as i'd like, and reflect the emotions of actors and dancers on my face or in my body as i watch movies or performances. i will still probably be too emotionally open when i first meet people and not have a sufficient attention span to ever be any good at cards. so what will be different?
what is the star's pin that i somehow think will tie all of my ends together? i know better now than to think it's marriage. i do not see that as a magic bullet. i also know better than to think it's career. for wonderful as it is to love what you do, work alone is not enough. maybe it's the appropriate balance. perhaps it is faith. but that much i know is true already. perhaps it is simply patience. appreciating that the balance will always be shifting and is a fine one and the best i can do is appreciate the unexpected beauty and joy that life offers each day if only we look for it.
what would the letter say?
- don't take everything so seriously. everything will work out. laugh more. smile at strangers. take risks. don't be afraid of anything.
- just be mattie. and don't worry about what others think or do. let go of trying to please everyone and just be the best person you can be.
- be a friend to yourself (always and in the moment, not just in letters). you will need that.
- accept that you are not perfect / that you are perfect as you are.
- but challenge yourself to think expansively, love deeply, experience richly, question widely, and live to the point of tears.
- forget regrets, or life is yours to miss (ok, that's from rent)
- do not define yourself in terms of a man / your relationship.
- but do not deny your romantic nature.
- appearances matter very little.
- notice and revel in the small moments, the subtle, quiet day to day. it matters more than the grand gestures.
- never shy a way from a chance to express love.
- be thankful.
- learn to cook.
- forgive easily - yourself and others.
- exercise regularly - it keeps you happy and healthy.
- be wary of easy answers and absolute authority.
- don't settle. and don't compromise your principles.
- believe.
so this has been a nice kathartic ramble. but illuminating for me in a small sense. in a way, i feel as though being back here is part of an ongoing conversation i have with china (or with myself in relation to china). a conversation that i can only have in beijing - the city in which i have lived the longest and yet which will never be home. i think i need to be here long enough this time to finish the conversation. and not rush that process.
for some reason i have lately been yearning to receive such a letter from my future self. or i have been thinking about what i would say to my younger self. i'm not sure which self exactly - of five years ago, or three, or yesterday. but more than wanting to write to my past jumble of selves, i want my future self, glorious friend that she is, to write to me now as i am stuck in this moment of my life. i know she would be full of good advice and kind words (and i may even be able to channel them if i try hard enough which is perhaps why i have been contemplating writing to my younger selves). and she would be funny, and kind, and smile at all of my to-ing and fro-ing and overthinking. i realize, perhaps now in this very moment for the first time, that being back in beijing has prompted a great deal of reflection on the woman i have become, and where i am going. it is almost coming full circle to be in this city again. my most formative years were here and it is where i started to grow up - to transition from being a girl to being a woman - and where some innocence was lost - both tragically and less so - and some perspective gained - of all sorts. i wonder if this is the city where i will complete this process. (insofar as i ever intend to fully grow up, that is. if it means you can't believe in faeries or breakfast desert, forget about it.)
[ironically, this was to be the post in which i stopped trying to write about china.]
i find myself at once consumed with broad questions of being and small minutiae of practicalities almost daily. i find it easier to focus on the latter. never have i taken such pride in washing the dishes, putting clutter in its place, ordering my books, shuffling the sock drawer. and i have a strange urge to bake. today's endeavour - wholewheat pomegranate ginger bread - which somehow also involved my attempting to make my own crystallized ginger. the challenges of sugar and fresh ginger, socks and soapy forks seem so satisfyingly surmountable. and yet, even as i am up to my elbow in batter or bookshelves, the broader questions remain. will it always be this way? and, what precisely are those broader questions?
maybe the reason i want a letter from my future self is to answer those questions. i want her to tell me that one day i will get there - wherever it is i am meant to be. but she will also likely tell me that it is not so different from where i am now. and the small fragments that make up a person won't have changed much. i will still laugh with dogs in the street, and have a glass of wine more than i ought to on occasion. i will still not be as stylish as i'd like, and reflect the emotions of actors and dancers on my face or in my body as i watch movies or performances. i will still probably be too emotionally open when i first meet people and not have a sufficient attention span to ever be any good at cards. so what will be different?
what is the star's pin that i somehow think will tie all of my ends together? i know better now than to think it's marriage. i do not see that as a magic bullet. i also know better than to think it's career. for wonderful as it is to love what you do, work alone is not enough. maybe it's the appropriate balance. perhaps it is faith. but that much i know is true already. perhaps it is simply patience. appreciating that the balance will always be shifting and is a fine one and the best i can do is appreciate the unexpected beauty and joy that life offers each day if only we look for it.
what would the letter say?
- don't take everything so seriously. everything will work out. laugh more. smile at strangers. take risks. don't be afraid of anything.
- just be mattie. and don't worry about what others think or do. let go of trying to please everyone and just be the best person you can be.
- be a friend to yourself (always and in the moment, not just in letters). you will need that.
- accept that you are not perfect / that you are perfect as you are.
- but challenge yourself to think expansively, love deeply, experience richly, question widely, and live to the point of tears.
- forget regrets, or life is yours to miss (ok, that's from rent)
- do not define yourself in terms of a man / your relationship.
- but do not deny your romantic nature.
- appearances matter very little.
- notice and revel in the small moments, the subtle, quiet day to day. it matters more than the grand gestures.
- never shy a way from a chance to express love.
- be thankful.
- learn to cook.
- forgive easily - yourself and others.
- exercise regularly - it keeps you happy and healthy.
- be wary of easy answers and absolute authority.
- don't settle. and don't compromise your principles.
- believe.
so this has been a nice kathartic ramble. but illuminating for me in a small sense. in a way, i feel as though being back here is part of an ongoing conversation i have with china (or with myself in relation to china). a conversation that i can only have in beijing - the city in which i have lived the longest and yet which will never be home. i think i need to be here long enough this time to finish the conversation. and not rush that process.
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