pollution and perspective

i have a bad case of the red china blues. call it i-abhor-china-itis. sigh. i feel guilty even writing that. sometimes i envy the people i meet who simply fell in love with china and that's why they're here. although envy is not the right word. i marvel at their capacity to simply love this place. for it is not at all something i can understand. certainly not at the moment. my magical weekend in napa may have ruined me. since my return i seem unable to be excited about this place (even as i banter on about conversing with beijing and my needing to be here). the atrocious air quality this week isn't helping. i seriously want to just pack up and go somewhere gorgeous where i can breathe deeply, contemplate truths larger and more subtle than i'll ever comprehend, and attempt to write something truly beautiful. or provocative. or both. beautiful or provocative or both. maybe that can be my new mantra. perhaps all i need is a new mantra.

i will be packing up again in just a few days. for another whirlwinded trip to the land of the free and the home of the brave. perhaps that will suffice for now. i am impossibly impatient. (although i used to be worse, which i suppose would be intolerably impatient. impossibly is an improvement.)

given my current restlessness and inquietude, i am questioning everything. i found myself this afternoon recalling a conversation i had some time ago with a new acquaintance. he asked me how wrong it was to profit from china. (incidentally, he is doing so and prefaced the question by stating he had no intention of stopping.) i pointed out that his very framing of the question presumed that it was wrong. an interesting chat ensued. which, after some other experiences, lead to landslides of over-thinking on both sides although that is an entirely other story. the reason i found myself recalling this today is i found myself wondering how wrong it is not to profit from china. given the (arguable) moral compromise one has to make being here at all, and wondering why i even bother with world-improving, shouldn't i at least be getting rich from shouldering on in this steamy grey mess? so many others seem to be. and 'to get rich is glorious' and all the rest. of course, if you know me you know that even in the deepest hues of my red china blues this kind of thinking can't last for long. nonetheless, it was entertaining to consider the question. doing so may have helped restore some sense of perspective, although i am still very restless and ready to jump. or dance. or something. (then again, maybe i always am. ready to dance, that is.)

i think the grey skies always make me feel as though i'm static - suspended by the particulate matter that presses against my skin. i feel constrained. contained. and it irks me. and makes me yearn for something explosive or inspiring to transpire. i want to get hit by a shooting star. or fall in love. or engage in animated discussions till dawn. or dance in the street. or take an impulsive trip to somewhere entirely unexpected....

a friend and i sought out adventure last night. we found mango martinis. and football. it is my outlet at the moment. i do adore the world cup! a game i can understand. hot men on screen. who are passionate and incredible athletes. international affairs on the field. unlimited free peanuts. all around awesome. this interest in sport came as a surprise to some friends who had never ever heard me mention or show an interest in sport of any kind ever ever prior to a casual comment about a potential conflict with a proposed concert and the world cup final. but during this month every four years i do two things that are out of character: (1) i watch a lot tv in pubs and (2) i drink beer. sometimes you have to push your boundaries.

speaking of which, i need to be doing more of that. pushing boundaries. in manners more meaningful and larger than lager. although i realize as i write this that it entirely contradicts my previous post's commitment to wu wei and nonaction / effortless doing. maybe there is space for both. onwards, onwards. next stop, wonderland.

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.

embraced by grey skies

so i am safely ensconced back in beijing’s grey embrace. seriously i couldn’t believe how grey the sky was when i landed. why are the skies always so startling? you’d think i’d be used to it by now. but i am likewise always astounded by the outrageous and inviting blues overhead upon arriving in north america. maybe it’s simply the suddenly shift. there used to be so much more involved in travel – more time required, more preparations made, more challenges, more formal attire, more etiquette, more smoke – and as a result more time was typically spent wherever it was you were getting to. and all the time and energy necessary to do so made it all seem less sudden and the skies less strange. or maybe not. maybe i just don’t take the skies for granted anymore.

in any case, i am back in the northern capital and taking very little for granted. my sojourn under the blue skies was brief and hectic. activities included: networking at our global staff retreat, nephew cuddling, communing with family and friends, and pondering the great imponderables. i have returned feeling very blessed and determined to become ever more generous, less afraid, and always curious.

also, i am (finally!) reading kazantzakis’s report to greco and taking seriously his imperative ‘reach what you cannot!’ his dedication in the book is as follows:

THREE KINDS OF SOULS, THREE PRAYERS:

1 – I AM A BOW IN YOUR HANDS, LORD. DRAW ME, LEST I ROT.

2 – DO NOT OVERDRAW ME, LORD. I SHALL BREAK.

3 – OVERDRAW ME, LORD. AND WHO CARES IF I BREAK!

that about sums up how it is we conduct ourselves in this world. (how we balance the terror and the wonder!) i am the third kind of soul.

the staff retreat and conversations in DC have me thinking expansively about the rule of law / development / foreign policy and how china doesn’t fit into any theories. i am hoping to create some space to write and think about that in a more structured way.

meanwhile, the grey goes on. it’s good to be home. and though i already miss lei feng, he’s happier in northern virginia. he was a really impressive little traveler, in case you were curious. he only cried for 10.5 of the 13 hours on the beijing – dulles flight. i was really proud of him for pulling it together for a whole 2.5 hours at the end. mind, the constant crying ranged from barely audible mewing that only i could hear (he was under the seat in front of me) to full on wailing with fur flying, paws flailing, and a shaking carrier. it was quite a performance. really he was just acting the way we all feel when trapped on a plane for seemingly interminable stretches of time.

i am choosing to see these grey skies as replete with possibilities rather than pollution. and i have great expectations for this spring.

season for spices and suppression

the sky out my window today is a sickly grey. the buildings are also grey. decidedly uninspiring. but i have ceased to look to the weather for inspiration.

'tis the season to be thankful. plus, i am being grateful each day (now that's inspiring). today i am thankful for freedom of speech. the lastest supression 'round these parts was the three year sentence handed down to a citizen who was crticial of the shoddy school construction (due to local corruption) in sichuan province that caused the deaths of thousands of children's during the earthquake last year. (the government refuses to release the exact figure for the number of children killed.) huang qi, who assisted parents who lost children in the quake press the local government, was convicted of the illegal possession of state secrets and sentenced to three years. his trial was closed and supporters were barred from entering the courtroom. more here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/24/world/asia/24quake.html?scp=2&sq=huang%20qi&st=cse

i wonder what the state secrets he possessed were? the truth? or at least a desire to unearth it amid the rubble? people say that the first casualty of any conflict is truth. and, in some sense, the chinese model for developing the current corporate authoritarian state has been creating a sense of constant conflict and completely controlling information. (mr. huang forgot that only the party has the truth here. he will now have a few years to "improve his thinking" while in prison.) the conflicts have shifted over the years - from rightists, capitalist roaders, intellectuals and landlords to foreigners, independent media, the dalai lama and "mastermind" rebiya kadeer. but the essential formula hasn't been altered all that much. of course, why mix up what has been so successful?

speaking of mixing up, i am somehow going to three thanksgiving dinners in four days this weekend. and will be attempting to make pumpkin pie. (my obssessive baking has been tempered by other interests of late.) which has me thinking about spices. i love having them about in the kitchen. even the ones i barely use or buy randomly on a whim. there's a great security in spices. what exactly i'm not sure. variety? freedom of flavour? the safety that when all else has been destroyed you can subsist on oregano and cumin? just looking at the spice rack puts me in a good mood. re-arranging it is downright therapuetic. so i look forward to seasoning the pie on saturday. and maybe making some bread as well. (confession: the other reason for the baking lull is my inability to light my oven without calling the compound mr. fixit (or, as we say, the "master craftsman") to assist. it's really rather embarassing and he thinks i am hopeless. although there really appears to be something wrong with the oven. this is the same fellow who, when i've had to call about computer issues, bruskly enters my flat, gives me the once over and asks, "did you turn it on"? he really thinks i'm not the brightest crayon in the box. but no matter.)

if not the brightest, i am feeling bright despite these grey skies. and, although not graceful, i will bravely return to ballet class this evening. (unless a roasted sweet potato detains me..... tis the season after all.)

heroes in the seaweed

on friday evening i found myself stuck in a traffic jam at rush hour, facing a logistical jungle gym of evening engagements, having recently been called regarding a minor work crisis, but serenely happy and in buoyed spirits. this was because i had just come from a meeting about public interest law in china at the offices of a remarkable collection of chinese public interest lawyers who work on children's rights, and migrant worker's rights, and other issues. their offices are in fengtai district, which may as well be another province because it seems so far away. but every time i make the journey out there, i am so inspired. the commitment, compassion, and courage of these lawyers just never fails to move me. and to make me feel as though my own small piece in china's rule of law puzzle makes sense somehow, or is worth it.

i think my spirits were in need of such a lift this friday after a women's rights program i had worked very hard on was cancelled, an environmental program in wuhan did not go so well (our trainers were terrible, in a word), and i've been increasingly finding the distance part of being in a long distance relationship difficult. friday was an incredibly windy day, so as my taxi snaked through the city, the beijing smog was being gusted about, sporadically swooshing up against the window and reminding me to pay attention. those windy alerts assisted in my appreciating and holding on to the sense of purpose and calm i carried with me as i left fengtai. there are heroes in the seaweed. and i am privileged to know some of them.

the wind also cleared out the skies for saturday, when i woke up early and went hiking near and on one of the more remote parts of the wall. it was a perfect day. amazing autumn weather - clear blue skies and sunshine, crisp air with just a slight chill as the wind blue. and the leaves were just turning and falling. and the company was lovely. i found myself hopping on one leg and dancing around just because i was feeling joyful and full of life. throwing leaves around like a child. why do we learn to suppress our spontaneity (or at least spontaneous explosions of joy) as adults? so dull, really. it was grand. am now thinking of a mary oliver poem a friend shared with me recently. ahem:

Self-Portrait by Mary Oliver

I wish I was twenty and in love with life
and still full of beans.

Onward, old legs!
There are the long, pale dunes; on the other side
the roses are blooming and finding their labor
no adversity to the spirit.

Upward, old legs! There are the roses, and there is the sea
shining like a song, like a body
I want to touch

though I'm not twenty
and won't be again but ah! seventy. And still
in love with life. And still
full of beans.

not twenty and won't be again but ah! thiry-one. and still in love with life. and still full of beans. my program this week is still cancelled. and i am still not sure how to resolve the challenge of distance. but i am remembering to appreciate the way the late afternoon light filters through the trees in the fields as i walk through the chinese countryside. and remembering to notice the beauty in the yellowing leaves. and appreciating learning a new recipe for olive tapenade (add sunflower seeds for some extra nuttiness!). and feeling thankful for the chance to know some of the heroes in the seaweed.

love and beans. love and beans!

on suppression and short shorts

so, clearly my post-a-day plan crumbled. i could blame the firewall or my frequent travels to second tier cities to ganbei (do shots of) mediocre hongjiu (red wine) with local partners. i could bemoan my frustrating lack of email access on a few critical occasions (june 4 / 20th anniversary of the tiananmen massacre) just after writing amazing, insightful collections of thoughts that i am unable to share. i could claim that i have been too caught up in life - pushing forward the frontiers of the rule of law (update: still no independent judiciary in china), keeping track of little trouble (takes more time than you'd think), and searching for new and interesting ways to consume red bean (latest obsession: red bean and yogurt popsicles). instead, i will not attempt to make excuses. in fact, these months of silence are liberating in a sense. i can now safely assuming that anyone who was attempting to read my musings has given up so i can write with the comfort of anonymity, knowing that i am just writing for myself. which is what i sat down to do today.

i determined that it's time for reflection in light of my recent birthday and all that has been happening in this land of late. birthdays always make me thoughtful. so does the imprisonment of human rights lawyers. and pollution. and bad haircuts. i am wearing my “inspi(red)” t-shirt at the moment, perhaps to make up for the uninspiring weather. it's as though a pall has descended on or been draped over the city for the last few weeks. the sky and air are grey, and it is oppressively hot. it’s perhaps appropriate; were i to pick a word to describe the essence of beijing this august it would be ‘suppression’. maybe that’s the name of paint colour of the beijing sky were it to be tinned: ‘suppression: beijing grey’ – looks great in bathrooms!

the suppression has been disheartening and weighing heavily on me (not unlike the polluted haze that you cannot escape breathing). i sometimes wish that i could not let it get to me, that i could not get tangled up in it emotionally. but i have come to accept that, even as i am every seeking to quiet my mind and cultivate the inner tranquility which transcends outer experience, feeling deeply is simply part of who i am. i feel the suppression of which i speak – the assault on gong meng / the open constitution initiative, a Chinese legal NGO doing public interest advocacy entirely within the bounds of the law, and the detaining of xu zhiyong, its founder, and zhuang lu, its sweet young financial manger; the announcement by the MOJ that all law firms will have a party liaison to monitor their work; the reminder from above that the role of lawyers is to serve the party leadership; and the continued and increasingly widespread control of the internet – in the same way that i feel this oppressive, pollute heat. it is all around and only seems to be getting worse. more disturbing shades of grey, hotter, and more quietly tolerated as simply the way things are.

sadly, it seems that the prevailing idea in the international rule of law community over the last few months – that this is just a sensitive time – may be misguided, a collective willing illusion perhaps. this suppression, and the party’s seeing lawyers as a threat to their power, seems here to stay. not something that is likely to abate after national day and the 60th anniversary festivities have concluded. i’m afraid this particular shade of control won’t wash away after a rainstorm like the polluted air. and i fear for what this means, not only for china, but the world. china’s power and size cannot be underestimated. astute point that, i know, but i think it needs to be said over and over again. especially when so many – individuals, artists, economies, nations, corporations, NGOs, journalists – are willing to self-censor and resist speaking truth to power in order to gain access to china. but is market access / relationship building / the capacity to do programming in the people’s republic worth it? it’s something i struggle with.

one positive aspect of this increasingly grey backdrop to my life is that it compliments my miserable new hair colour. long story short: (1 attempt to get subtle highlights before my sisters wedding + 1 inexperienced stylist who had never touched blonde hair before = madonna meets jessica rabbit strawberry bottle blonde nightmare) x (1 senior stylist who insisted he could “fix it” + 4 more hours of torture involving various shades of purple) = a head full of deep purple / brown hair best described as “ripe plum”. with time, that shade has faded to a reddish brown (goes great with suppression!). and most of my hair has now been chopped off. (as the (new) stylist who cut it said, my hair was “huai le” or broken, so had to go.) not exactly the look i was going for as i properly enter and embrace my 30s, but a good lesson in what really matters in life (spirit, love) and what doesn’t (hair, superficial form).

a word on being “in my 30s”. i am now 31. on my birthday, i sat down to compose a list for myself of 31 thoughts on being 31. (i have recently also accepted that i love lists. unfortunately only lists of impractical things – dreams, ideas, places to visit, interesting meditations or quotes, interesting words, plays i will produce one day in my political theatre, names for my future children, names for my current imaginary pets, images i want to use in somewhere in a piece of writing some day, pros and cons. lists of practical things – groceries, errands, things i need for the flat, things to pick up when i am back in north america to bring back – have no interest to me and i can never, or at least rarely bring myself to make them. instead, i make grocery lists in my head and invariably cannot find them when i am at the market. standing lost amid the spices, however, i could easily rummage around in my bag and pull out a list of 30 things to do in my 30s i made on my last birthday that is still in my diary. this is a deeply flawed system.) when i decided to list 31 thoughts on being 31, i didn’t get very far. it felt too monumental a task. i was turning all metaphysical, hippie-zen-slumber-party-theology on myself and thinking of thoughts like “there is only love” and somehow i couldn’t have that as thought number 2. thought number 1 was easy: “it might be time to stop wearing short shorts”. to avoid swimming through pools of my own existential and spiritual angst, questioning, joy, and overthinking, i decided to stop the list there. so my deep thought on turning 31 is that it might be time to stop wearing short-shorts. operative word in that sentence being “might”.

in all seriousness, i am trying not to take this birthday – and the attendant social pressures that seem to come with it – too seriously. but it has not always been easy. especially with all my brooding on and breathing in various shades of grey lately, i have found myself questioning what i am doing and where i am going – in so many senses – in a more urgent way than i did a few short weeks ago when i was a sweet, young, wisp of a girl. there’s something more substantial about being 31. time to be wholly yourself, unapologetically, and give deeply, love unconditionally, and not compromise. though i suppose we ought to do that at any age. always.