give in to love or live in fear

so naturally the subject of this post is a line from 'rent', although it is actually a poem that is inspiring me to write at the moment. i subscribe to the writer's almanac and so receive an email with a poem each day*. for some reason today's poem struck me such that i felt i needed to stop what i was doing and consider it**. i think i was struck by it because i found myself sharing one of my inspirational 'rent' mantras with a friend yesterday - forget regrets or life is yours to miss. it's a good mantra because is propelling and good for perspective. i'd like to think that it points to living boldly, taking risks, making the most of each moment and opportunity, focusing on joy, and not taking things too seriously. it is an especially useful mantra for those of us prone to over-thinking. (to borrow from emerson: finish each day and be done with it. you have done what you could. some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. tomorrow is a new day. you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.) pleasantly, i realise as i write this that i am reasonably good at actualising this mantra. (see my saturday afternoon-to-evening activities, which i will briefly describe below, as evidence.) actualisation aside, today's poem struck me because it articulates a a real and legitimate actual regret. ahem -

The Man in the Yard

by Howard Nelson

My father told me once
that when he was about twenty
he had a new girlfriend, and once
they stopped by the house on the way
to somewhere, just a quick stop
to pick something up,
and my grandfather, who wasn't well—
it turned out he had TB and would die
at fifty-two—was sitting in a chair
in the small back yard, my father
knew he was out there, and it crossed
his mind that he should take his girlfriend
out back to meet him, but he
didn't, whether for embarrassment
at the sick, fading man
or just because he was in a hurry
to be off on his date, he didn't
say, but he told the little,
uneventful story anyway, and said
that he had always regretted
not doing that simple, courteous
thing, the sick man sitting in
the sun in the back yard would
have enjoyed meeting her, but
instead he sat out there alone
as they came and left, young
lovers going on a date. He
always regretted it, he said.

i almost burst into tears when i finished reading this. not, however, because i found it sad. i don't think it's actually about regret so much as it is a subtle expression of the rent lyrics mantra above. forget regrets or life is yours to miss is really telling us to live in a way that we don't have regrets. to always make the bold, frightening, loving choices even when they are daunting or more painful or inconvenient. more succinctly: give in to love or live in fear. yes, that's another line from the same song but it is also perhaps the best mantra of all. if the poet's father were to have chosen to give into love - that tug he felt to bring this (seemingly insignificant) girlfriend to meet his sick father - rather than his fear of the awkwardness of that moment, he wouldn't be sharing this small regret with his son all these years later. it is sometimes shocking to me how we can still shy away from living as boldly as we possibly can and making the most of every moment even when the universe again and again reminds us how ephemeral our lives are, how fleeting our chances to love and be kind. and yet we squander them. we look away and leave things unsaid and suppress our laughter all too often. (oooh, i am totally talking myself into stopping work for the afternoon and going for a long, rambling walk in the neighbourhood and bringing a delicious and special bottle of wine to dinner with friends tonight!) my brother-in-law used to say that love is the absence of fear. for the longest time i didn't understand that. but now it is too clear. not unlike the imperative of this poem. in addition to almost bursting into tears, i had a tremendous impulse to simply run in the sunshine or kiss someone handsome and strong or dance for simply hours****.

thankfully, there is still time to do all of those things yet today! i actually did all of those things, minus the kissing, on saturday. saturday was an absolutely beautiful day here in beijing - sunny, blue skies, perfect early autumn weather - and a friend was having a housewarming lunch in his new hutong home. it was a superb day for bbqing in the courtyard with a small collection of souls*****. we enjoyed a delicious lunch and then lingered on. some of us half-napped, mostly chatted lying on my friend's new bed (a 'heavenlyTM' bed from the westin hotel - kind of like cloud but better). some dealt with household improvements. some chatted outside. my ipod, our musical inspiration for the day, behaved amazingly and shuffled together a perfect soundtrack*******. as afternoon began to turn to evening, we all contemplated whether we ought to part ways and head off into our various evening plans. we did seriously contemplate that. maybe for four minutes. and then we opened a bottle of red wine. and cancelled our other plans. the afternoon turned into evening turned into night. we drank wine. we ordered dinner. we wore funny hats. (i spent a few hours in a very classy top hat. another friend had a rather fetching gold turban. and there was a safari hat involved too.) we climbed the tree in the courtyard. others came. and left. (once again, we scared all the straight men away.) we sang. (at least two of the straight men might have been scared away by my singing toto's 'africa' to a teaspoon at the table along with another girlfriend. when i was sober. (on fellow asked how much we'd been drinking and i said that i'd only had two glasses of wine over the course of many hours (which was true at that point), but was somewhat inherently silly and just having fun. i offered him my teaspoon microphone to join in for a bit, but he wasn't into it. i shrugged. his loss.)) we danced. we began dancing around the courtyard and then moved into the living room. i may or may not have been inspired to do the splits multiple times. a friend may or may not have pulled a groin muscle attempting to do the splits. we also may or may not have done the running man. and the roger rabbit. the neighbours called the police. (they were concerned my friend was starting a club in his new home. we assured them he was not.) others did shots of baijiu. (shots of baijiu for me are always regrets that i cannot forget.) in the end, four of us ended up climbing into my friend's (heavenlyTM) bed and giggling like schoolgirls for hours. and staying the night. i was perhaps not the most popular person at the slumber party because once i got tired i kept encouraging slumber, saying 'too much chatting, not enough sleeping!' it was a very impromptu, amusing, hilarious saturday. we certainly warmed the house. and, i suppose, we gave into love, not fear. though i suspect that some of my comrades regretted the shots of baijiu on sunday morning.



*confession - much as i enjoy seeing this mail surface in my inbox each day, i do not always read the poems. i sometimes only skim. or don't read them at all. shhhh.

**a second confession - i am working from home on transition memos and other materials related to my impending career move and its a national (hotly love the motherland!) holiday this entire week and the weather is gorgeous and i am finding it exceedingly difficult to focus***. even if today's poem were about a rodent or farm implements or slugs i probably would have found it necessary to stop and consider it. and so.

***let's be honest, productivity is overrated.

****as per my confessions above, these impulses may or may not also be related to having been sitting and writing memos for too long. actually, they also may or may not be regular impulses unrelated to this poem or prose of any kind.

*****amusing true story: i arrived at said collection of souls saying that (inspired by my recent experience in clean living in koh samui) i wasn't drinking any alcohol or eating any sugar. but then a sommelier friend opened a bottle of wine from one of my favourite vineyards in napa and a sweet girlfriend arrived with homemade toffee cake generously topped with chocolate and nuts. one and half hours after my statement, i was enjoying a delicious glass of wine and eating too much toffee cake in the sunshine. my friends said they were very impressed with my will power for lasting over an hour. i didn't regret my choices. some mantras are more meaningful than others.

******my ipod on shuffle can be very unpredictable. unsurprisingly, we are almost always teetering on the edge of musical theatre or hiphop. but it performed admirably on saturday. especially during the dance party, but also in the quieter moments.

doing it beautifully

so our stretch of sweet, serene blue sky days and sparkly summer evenings under the stars in the courtyard have come to a close. here in the northern capital we are once again firmly embraced by filth. in the form of pollution, naturally (or rather unnaturally), and also just general dirt and squalor. now i too have been known to swoon over the quiet joys of hutong living, but sometimes i fail to see the romance. this morning was one of those times. as i walked down the alley to the bus stop, i found myself doing the using winding dance avoiding filth in various forms and thinking whether hutong life is less about poetry and more about poo. literally. all over the place. and piles of dirt. and having to see underwear in public a lot. although that may just be a china thing. airing your laundry - even your intimates - in public spaces is quite acceptable. it's unfortunate that all of these knickers kicking it about town seem to be unsightly. almost without fail they are old, enormous, yellowing, and one wear shy of unravelling. you beijingren out there know exactly what i'm talking about. why? i ask you, why? then again, maybe in my fretting about underwear aesthetics, i am missing some profounder truth hidden in all the (over)exposed panties*. isn't god a shout in the street? shouldn't we be able to find enlightenment in the everyday? maybe the answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind. and maybe the answer is enormous underwear. (of course, i might need to work out the question first.)

anyway, after enduring aesthetic, aural and olfactory assualts in the alley, i boarded a bus that had clearly pulled up to our humble stop straight out of an orson scott card novel**. our driver may or may not have been engaged in some sort of intergalactic space battle in a dimension the rest of us could not access or see. seriously. i think i have bruises from being tossed about so much. there were at least two moments when i felt quite certain i was on the verge of death or serious bodily injury. in those moments i both cursed myself for wearing gorgeous patent leather stilettos this morning and congratulated myself for going down in style. i found myself thinking of hedda gabler's immortal line, 'do it beautifully', urging a man to commit suicide in style. and so.

and so i've decided that doing it beautifully is a healthy approach to all things. even if the origin of this particular mantra is perhaps less than healthy. i strolled down the alley in my stilettos humming along to the jazz*** on my ipod, sidestepping the sh*t and gracefully avoiding pantie attacks, beautifully. and today i shall beautifully attempt not to be disheartened about the ever-shrinking space for human rights advocacy in this (filthy) country. and i shall also beautifully contemplate a possible career shift that would allow me to continue to work on the issues i care about, but from an altered (and perhaps safer more generative) angle.

actually, maybe that's the answer.
(who needs the question?)

do it beautifully.



*and i am ostensibly into finding beauty in unexpected places!

**i am generally not much of a science fiction fan, but absolutely love ender's game, and then next 2-3 books in the series. i think it falls off after that. if you haven't read it, get thee to a bookstore or library or website (so many options in the modern world! (too many?))! oh and again, not trying to be bossy. just spreading sunshine. very necessary on this grey day.

***sometimes i love jazz so much i wish i could eat it.

whimsy and worry

so wednesday afternoon i composed a perfectly witty and pithy post with this title, cleverly lyrical gangsta about how i am all whimsy, no worry only to have the post be irretrievably swept away by cyberspace. i blame the great firewall and some sharky vpn activity. this loss proves that god has a sense of humour.* because of course once it was disappeared, i worried about having lost my wondrous musings on whimsy. i consider all of it a lesson in impermanence. my version of a sand mandala. the title survived the ritualistic destruction, so i too have retained it. but i shall not attempt to recreate that perfect post in its entirety. instead, i'll briefly summarise and move on, since that is what life has done in the meanwhile. moved on, that is. it always does.

the title that the small hands of cyberspace saved refers to my decision of late to choose whimsy over worry. and to encourage others to do the same. not that it is my purpose to impose my will on others.** but really i think we could all do with more whimsy in our lives. and less worry.

i was having dinner with a friend earlier this week and while i was relating a recent whimsical experience, he asked me if i could turn off the novel. he said that listening to me tell stories was like being inside a novel. he suggested that i was so busy creating, characterising, or painting my life that i wasn't simply living it. i was very briefly taken aback. i paused and considered whether he had a point, whether i somehow follow more entertaining or colourful paths purely for the sake of personal narrative or, as he may have been implying, to create wondrous stories but remain hidden behind them and not actually let anyone get close to me. i decided he was mistaken. i believe that i in fact live very authentically. i told him as much and explained that it's just the honest truth that my life that my seemingly stranger-than-fiction tornado ballet life stories are what transpire when i simply live my life. it's just part of being sparkleicious.**** i also opined that creating stories and ordering our experiences is simply how we relate. only connect!***** we then connected by imagining what would happen next in our lives if they were novels. being september, i confessed that my next chapter would have to involve falling in love because september is the perfect season to fall in love.****** of course now that i've said that and written it here, it will certainly not happen. but that's also fine because my life is not a novel, i don't live it as such and i'm not worried about falling in love at the moment. which is a relief.

after our dinner deliberations, i discovered that a thoughtful mime had said as much in a conversation with my fabulous friend that she shared on her fabulous blog: http://citizenkerry.tumblr.com/post/1080790472/my-new-friend-pearl-the-mime. pearl the mime opined: “We’re all editors, and we’re all choosing the styles and the stories that represent us." the styles and stories i'm choosing now are pure whimsy.

what does that mean in practice? it means lots of laughter and forgetting. it means noticing texture. touch. challenging myself. it means soaking up the end of summer, appreciating each precious drop of sunlight and blue sky (which is seriously precious in these parts), and dancing when no one's watching. or even when they are. it means never giving up. it means glorious late summer dinner parties with delightful friends. and last thursday i hosted perhaps my most ambitious dinner party ever. (confession: pure whimsy aside, there is always some worry involved when i take on my elaborate dinner menu agendas. thankfully it usually all comes together in the end. and this night in particular it did.*******) as evening gave way to night, the dinner devolved into drunken parlour games in the courtyard that lasted into the wee hours. a great deal of whimsy! so much, in fact, that i was still feeling it the next morning. or maybe that was the whisky.

actually, rather than the perfect season to fall in love, this particular september seems to be the perfect season for thursday to be the new friday. a pink is the new black kind of thing. (or is black the new black this year?) i seem to be up or out late every thursday of late. last night was no exception. but - wait for it - i'm not worrying about it. and i know that i'll swing back into balance by the end of the month since it will find me at a yoga / spa escape in koh samui! this story is a lesson in the whimsy-worry balance (and will also conclude with some lessons on actual balance as part of a five day personal yoga synergy program - so excited). i need to be in bangkok for work next week and the mid-autumn festival immediately follows my work trip, so i decided to extend my time in thailand and go somewhere over the holiday. i have been craving some stillness (the tornado ballet gets tiring sometimes, even with my excessive sparkle) and so explored yoga escapes. i wrestled with whether i could or should afford to go with this dream program at a highly recommended but not cheap gorgeous resort built on buddhist caves. (confession: i also had some moments of worrying about going on holiday alone and considering finding a friend or lover (?) to come along. but i decided to embrace myself.) i also decided to embrace the dream program at the gorgeous resort. and then. and then last night i got an email from the director of my NGO saying he wanted to speak with me via phone. he called this morning to tell me i was being awarded a one time (modest) merit bonus in appreciation for all my work over the last year. i was very surprised and humbled and grateful. all the more so when i learned the details. it is the exact amount to cover my holiday. literally the exact amount. and it will be deposited into my bank account on the day i fly to thailand. which is truly and simply amazing grace. maybe i'm wrong to have whimsy as my mantra of the moment. (i'm pretty sure i'm right to try not to worry.) maybe i should be moved and amazed by grace. then again, maybe i already was and always am. and maybe, just maybe, that is also part of whimsy. whheeeeeeeee!



*does she ever! she is also everywhere. like the heroes in the seaweed.

**i doubt many of you have dashed off to listen to j.c. and bill moyers chat myths and meaning. i make these suggestions not to impose myself upon you, but merely as a means of sharing. only connect!***

***challenge: how many times have i used that expression in this blog? too many, to be sure. and i'm not even much of a howard's end fan, really. and yet. here is the relevant passage:
Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.
and now it is too clear why i quote it so often, why that expression has become a touchstone for me.... imagine if we could collect all of the expressions and the images that serve as our touchstones. and not just when writing in public spaces, or writing at all. but those that we reach for inside ourselves in quiet moments. or that we look for next to the moon through the trees when we're lying in bed mulling over our days and our tomorrows. oh, to gather that ephemera in one place. it would surely arrange into an astounding bouquet! i would love to sculpt it somehow. and place it in a public space where many hands could smooth it over and over until it was gone.... on a less abstact note, i have decided to cease worrying about footnoting footnotes.

****a nickname. also, a true story: in a recent meeting about a potential new job in discussing what i would bring to the position, i included "spakle" (which i defined as an ability to stand out in a crowd and network to make people connect and bring out their best on behalf of a worthy cause). the woman i was speaking with almost leapt out of her seat. she cried, "you have so much sparkle!" i smiled demurely (in pearls) and agreed. i thought to myself, "you have no idea, lady. i sparkle when i'm not even trying. and sometimes, it's too bright even for me."

*****i had to throw that in for people who don't actually read the footnotes. zigazig ha. (yes, i just quoted the spice girls.)

******an idea absorbed from the fantasticks. a very pure musical. please refer to the lyrics of "try to remember" for more details.

*******menu included a watermelon gazpacho, a spinach-garbanzo bean-cucumber-cherry tomato-feta quinoa salad w/ smoked paprika dressing, an avacado-cherry tomato-red onion-cilantro greens salad w/ a secret balsamic dressing, marinated baked salmon topped with roasted red and yellow peppers and thyme. a friend contributed roasted figs wrapped in proscuitto to the appetizer course. and i made my magic amaretto-spiked chocolate mousse for dessert. it was strong work for dinner for twelve on a thursday. oh and, of course, there was lots of delicious cheese accessible at all times.

dance dance dance

so, forget all my philosophical birthday ramblings from yesterday. i really came to china to dance. at least that is what i apparently believed last night. when i may as well have been in monaco for the evening. (and rather impressively managed to make it back in time to talk about human trafficking this morning! (there is some kind of off-colour humour in there somewhere, but i can't quite discern it.)) why was i ostensibly in monaco? because the evening involved cake, champagne, diamonds, and dancing. and also shots of fishy stuff mixed with vodka. sounds disgusting, i know, but it was actually delicious. and possibly my undoing.

actually, my undoing may have begun earlier in the day when, aside from the poetic interlude when i posted about having returned to china for love*, i spent a good portion of the day listening to absolutely filthy horrible awesome fun hiphop and rap. really, it's against all of my principles and if i listen to the lyrics some essential part of my sweet blossom of a soul quivers in terror and shame. the misogyny and the objectification and the straight up dirty sex talk, it's utterly offensive and inexcusable. and yet. sometimes i simply love the beats. so i don't listen to the lyrics. yesterday i chair-danced my way through the work day. (my work wife was out of town so i had the office to myself, allowing sufficient privacy for rocking out.) the theme song of this birthday may be kid cudi's 'make her say'** (his response to lady gaga's poker face. she is even sampled in. and sings. well. who knew?). it is filthy, filthy, freaknasty gross if you listen to what he says. but is awesome. if you haven't heard it, please go listen now.

anyway, the reason all the hiphop may have been my undoing is because, aside from the fishjuice vodka shots (which really were a good idea, i promise) there was a rather dodgy interlude in the evening when i was dressed down and publicly insulted by a jazz singer who was allegedly singing happy birthday to me. not only did he instead sing a song which may or may not have been a love song for sarah palin (it was entitled 'drill baby drill' and i believe those were the only lyrics), but he actually insulted me. more than once. and made me stand by myself in the middle of the club. with crazy lights on me. while he sang the sarah palin song. i'm not even making this up. how could i? i'm creative, but this was beyond my wildest imagination. anyway, when i was asked to give a birthday speech at my birthday dinner, the best i could come up with (after the fishjuice vodka, mind) was: "i will pay cashmoney to anyone who can get the soulful sweet-eyed jazz singer we're about go see to play a cover of 50 cent's 'in da club' in my honour". i consider this speech a marginal improvement over the one i gave at my massive amazing 30th birthday blowout. to wit: "30 is the new 17!" actually, i had first said some very nice meaningful things thanking my wonderful gorgeous fabulous friends and family for all of their love and all the joy they bring to my life and telling everyone how blessed i feel to have them in my life. i still do. feel blessed, that is. even after being abused by a 22-year-old, barefoot, sweaty jazz singer. and drinking fishjuice vodka. but i'll get to that in a moment. i think this jazz singer was upset because maybe one of my friend's actually asked him to play 50 cent. or ani difranco. or both. so he got upset and said he wasn't a jukebox. or something like that. then he made me come to the front and centre of the club and stand below him while he strummed my pain with his fingers and destroyed the alaskan wilderness with his words, all the while glaring at me. (i glared back and calmly sipped my champagne with quiet aggression.) kind of unbelievable.

the only place to go from there was monaco. or, more precisely, the opposite of monaco. xiu. a club at the grand hyatt with a very mediocre band****** that covers all sorts of dance music (including but not limited to hiphop) and a mediocre DJ. but the best to be found in beijing. in any case, what we were really going for was champagne and dancing. we drank a lot of the former and did a lot of the latter. and the band sang a raucous, funkdefied version of happy birthday to me while i rocked out dancing on stage. i was then the star of the club for the night. all in all it was actually nothing like my nights in monaco, when once upon a lifetime i had such things, save for the bottle of moet we opened after midnight. in any case, we had a grand time.

two points to ponder:

1 - the diamonds came into the picture via a very surprising, sweet, generous gift from my crazysexycool beautiful beijing girlfriends. they got me a gorgeous diamond necklace. this was of course so kind and wonderful and overwhelming. but it made me realise that all of the diamonds i presently have come from my grandmother or girlfriends. and for some reason recalled for me the bachelorette-that-wasn't-a-bachelorette that some of my girlfriends threw for me for my 30th birthday. i wonder if slowly all of my girlfriends all over the world are, like my mother, giving up hope that i'll ever get married. so they are stepping up and giving me all the of the trapsings that typically surround that process - diamonds, a hen party, etc. hmmm.

2 - all of the men i danced with last night were gay. in fact a friend of one of my (gay male) friends who was there who i didn't know and came up to dance with me prefaced his approach with "it's ok, i'm gay". this makes me wonder if i really do intimidate every man in beijing. (as was suggested over lunch by a (gay) guy friend the other day.) hmmm. to be fair, there was one single man who was meant to join the party last night. but he got held up with work. or so he said. maybe he was scared.... tehe. that was fun to write. in any case, even if i am intimidating, there is nothing to be done. i can only be me. [speaking of which, take a moment to appreciate the shout out to murakami in the subject of this post.]

and now the moment you've all been waiting for. i shall explain the fishjuice vodka! we had dinner at a lovely new restaurant in beijing. a cevichera (sp?) called terra which focuses on (big surpise) ceviche and peruvian food. all delicious and they couldn't have been better to me on my birthday! the owner, who is also a friend, suggested that she give us vodka shots flavoured with various ceviche juices and fish to accompany the meal. (the flavours included tomato, i think cilantro, and some sort of ayayayayay spicy pepper (loved that one).) we all raised one eyebrow at first and weren't convinced, but decided to be brave. [goethe: whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!] and it was surprisingly delicious. and left me surprisingly and deliciously wasteycakes.

and that is the story of my birthday. go shorty.

31 was kind of a tough year. but i have great expectations for 32. so 32'd better bring it. because i won't stop believing. or dreaming boldly. so i'm ready for the ensuing genious, power, and magic. i'm also always ready to dance.



*a curious, perhaps dubious, proposition i am still contemplating. comments encouraged.

**i was introduced to it by a more culturally in touch friend while back in the us. i also (finally!) have a new ipod and have been downloading all kinds of new music. my previous ipod was held hostage by the ghosts of boyfriends past, so this is really exciting. i also am intending to shake what my momma gave me all over again on saturday. throwing myself a birthday bubbly and cupcakes in the courtyard party (at my place). in a truly astonishing tist of fate, a friend who has an amazing cupcakery here in beijing (check on it: http://www.lollipopbakery.cn/) has come out with a new red bean cupcake just in time for my birthday. SJ,*** this is glorious news. red bean is among that which is sacred to me. and eating red bean is as about as much pleasure as i get these days. in fact, i spoiled myself on birthday eve**** by having a dinner than consisted amost entirely of red bean. bliss.

***SJ = sweet jesus. also, i am not sure it is appropriate to footnote a footnote in a blog post. perhaps i need to reconsider how i structure these profound pieces. then again maybe i'll just continue to do as i please. (go shorty, it's your birthday.)

****day / evening before your birthday. also worth celebrating. as is, i suppose, the day after. i am going to a friend's new pizza place this eve (check baby, check baby, 1, 2: www.gunghopizza.com) where i am promised amazing pies and a delicious new zealand sauvignon blanc. yum. i am also loving all these shout-outs, mjj! (yes, i am talking to myself. if this disturbs you, please see yesterday's self-indulgent yet eloquent post about self-love. rinse. repeat.)

*****lost track of the number of stars here. this post is out of control! ahhh. point about the band - no one should try to cover jay-z's 'empire state of mind'. no one. even the truly amazing unbelievable best band i've ever heard that performed at my dear friend's wedding the other weekend couldn't quite pull it off. so the xiu set was doomed. but they tried. style points for effort anyway.

letting him say his lines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

be light and love

among the more useful invisible skills i have developed during the course of my time on our spinning orb has been, in essense, spin. most importantly, the capacity to dance myself to a better place when i am down. for example, my current gmail status message (sadly the narrow sliver of creative space in my daily life these days) reads: "deciding everything is falling into place perfectly as long as you don't get too picky about what you mean by place. or perfectly." that about sums it up.

this weekend i also stumbled across a personal mantra i had given myself accidentally about a month ago. i was searching through some past writings to give myself something solid to hold onto in a slight downward spiral when i found myself startled to run into sadness in my living room and stare down the abyss on the street corner. the mantra: "be light and love". it was nice to discover among my own words. it was especially nice because i have been yearning for a mantra lately. and all the ones i tried on didn't really fit. too snug, too cute, too smug, too spacey, too much. and, as i have mentioned here, because i found myself yearning to receive a letter from my future self not so long ago. i suppose this is as close as i can come in the here and now. and as far as mantras can, it fits. it challenges in the right amount - i most often am light, but not always, and sometimes i need to remind myself to choose lightness. and is suitably philosohpical - just love. for really love is all there is.

sadness slyly seeped in through my window this afternoon. he's all mixed up with the pollutants these days! appropriately filthy company for him. there's still a bad aftertaste in the air, but i'm determined not to let him triumph. this evening or ever.

rather, i will be light and love.