so it's monday evening. i am rocking out alone in the office. love doing that. (it's the simple pleasures that you the appreciate most, really.) the sky is a surprising blue streaked with princess pink. beautiful. and the world feels calm. or still. suspended. i love that aspect of dusk. just dark enough to stir up a bit of statis. which, if we were considering theories of aesthetics, aquinas would tell is is true beauty.
this weekend was truly beautiful. both in terms of weather - overwhelming pounding rain on saturday followed by glorious embracing sunshine on sunday - and in terms of perspective / experience. i've of course been loving listening to joseph campbell* and bill moyers. i have been accused of being too into poetry. it may be a fair accusation. but i loved hearing joseph campbell talk about the place of poerty - writing, artistic expression, creation - in relation to myth. and myth in relation to life. how we hold on to stories, narrative, images to order ourselves in the world. he spoke of life as a poem. saying that to see life as a poem and yourself participating in a poem is what the myth does for you. his point was that you are then seeing yourself and living your life in relation to a broader narrative or in association with images. and thus your every action has meaning beyond the gesture and is taking place in relation to or recollection of something more. although he said it much more eloquently than that. i'll try to find the exact language somewhere and share it. it made my heart sing.
in less profound news, i was so excited about the sunshine on sunday that i spent hours wandering around outside, walking through our suddenly beautiful city. unforuntately i was wearing a sundress and sandals - very cute but not very athletic - and ended up with blisters on the bottoms of my feet. seriously. i didn't even know this was possible. i am now basically only comfortably barefoot on tiptoe. which is, sadly, not an appropriate way to meet a visiting environmental judge from new zealand (which i did this morning) or other people in a professional context. i decided that since i was going to be in pain no matter what i put on my feet, i may as well wear fabulous shoes. so i went with plum-red pumps with black heels. not my best decision. but not my worst either. they have been kicked under my desk all day. i wonder if there is any mythological meaning in that. unlikely.
in some promising news, i am over my need to be held. and am trying to be better about getting out of my own way when i need to. whether it was the japanese punk rock concert, the rain, the sunshine, the contemplation of myth, prayers, or some combination thereof, i am back to being happy holding myself. phew. that process was a poem in and of itself.
*he really summerd it all up when he said 'follow your bliss', didn't he? i don't know how or why the rest of us bother to say anything since that thought is already out there for inspiration. actually, that's a ridiculous sentiment. there is so much more to say, feel, and create. even if its all been done before. the myriad unique ways we can experience that which is universal (everything) and try to express or give voice to it (anything) is incredibly meaningful.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
on momentum and its discontents
i had a moment last night walking through the hutongs at twilight (listening to 'rent') when i was struck with a realization about my month of momentum's having come to a screeching halt while i was sick. with absolute clarity i realized that i had been viewing things entirely incorrectly. i had been so distraught and discontent about finding myself suspended in silence for a week that i almost failed to notice the inner calm i discovered there. i failed to appreciate that the real momentum i needed this month was internal.* as soon as the idea crossed my mind (while i joyfully i sang out loud along with the rent soundtrack - give in to love, or live in fear!), i stopped for a moment to just let it sink in. (and to avoid being hit by a bicycle-cart transporting dangerously-stacked wood.) my focus on external measures of momentum or progress was misplaced. the real momentum i needed (and was finding!) was internal. it was about taking time to notice the twilight, among other things. so i smiled up at the sky and continued on my way to meet girlfriends for dinner.
as we sat on a rooftop, laughing, and the twilight faded into blue, this realization drifted slowly through me. it settled on an ocean floor somewhere inside me. and i felt very content with that. i have recently been thinking about the connections between our intellectual, spiritual, and physical selves. i believe these connections are stronger and more subtle that we can possibly understand. i saw my chinese doctor on sunday evening. she's an acupuncturist extraordinaire. i had sent her an sms in desperation on friday when i still wasn't feeling better, even if i had a bit of a voice. although i was feeling fine and mostly recovered by sunday afternoon when i arrived at her office, i thought i would go ahead with the appointment anyway. i explained that i had spent a week unable to speak, constantly exhausted, having curious headaches, and generally unwell. she sized up the situation and decided she need to rub my neck and back with a magic stone and then let out bad blood from behind my knees. (obviously.) between the gua sha (scraping) and the blood-letting, i look as though i've been tortured on my back and neck and the backs of my knees. but as usual after seeing her, i feel amazing. both physically - such spaciousness! - but also emotionally. somehow all of the adjustments order things more profound than my vertabrae, the cupping reaches things deeper than my skin. of course i am not such a believer that i skipped the antibiotics and the nebulizer, but nonetheless, i always marvel at the levels (and layers) of healing involved in shen daifu's treatments.
i have decided that i ought to continue to focus on inner momentum. and worry much less about the rest. i have an abiding faith which is enough for now (and always). and now is all there is anyway - no day but today! speaking of which, it has been absolutely gorgeous weather for two days straight which simply makes me want to leave the office, sit on a rooftop somewhere and be fabulous! i'm not entirely sure what that involves, but i'm pretty sure it has something to do with champagne cocktails and outrageous shoes.** preferably while listening to jazz. or wild birds that sounds like keith jarrett on the piano. but i will not leave the office, and will continue to push forward the rule of law. and perhaps go shoe-shopping online. (maybe some external momentum on my feet will assist with the internal progress!)
*perhaps it always is.
**i recognise that this may sound like a wish to become a taitai. especially because whenever i scratch the surface of this particular illusion just a little bit, confusion ensues. really, there is only so much sipping of champagne cocktails and wearing big shoes one can do in a given day. so how to occupy the remaining time? i expect that there would be a lot of effort put into preparing for the moment when the sipping of cocktails commences. (being fabulous requires looking fabulous and that takes work.) this is when i realize that being a taitai might be rather tedious. even if time at the gym, spa, beauty salon, lunch, and shops (in preparation for the rooftop champers moment) occupies several hours, i know i would crave substance.
as we sat on a rooftop, laughing, and the twilight faded into blue, this realization drifted slowly through me. it settled on an ocean floor somewhere inside me. and i felt very content with that. i have recently been thinking about the connections between our intellectual, spiritual, and physical selves. i believe these connections are stronger and more subtle that we can possibly understand. i saw my chinese doctor on sunday evening. she's an acupuncturist extraordinaire. i had sent her an sms in desperation on friday when i still wasn't feeling better, even if i had a bit of a voice. although i was feeling fine and mostly recovered by sunday afternoon when i arrived at her office, i thought i would go ahead with the appointment anyway. i explained that i had spent a week unable to speak, constantly exhausted, having curious headaches, and generally unwell. she sized up the situation and decided she need to rub my neck and back with a magic stone and then let out bad blood from behind my knees. (obviously.) between the gua sha (scraping) and the blood-letting, i look as though i've been tortured on my back and neck and the backs of my knees. but as usual after seeing her, i feel amazing. both physically - such spaciousness! - but also emotionally. somehow all of the adjustments order things more profound than my vertabrae, the cupping reaches things deeper than my skin. of course i am not such a believer that i skipped the antibiotics and the nebulizer, but nonetheless, i always marvel at the levels (and layers) of healing involved in shen daifu's treatments.
i have decided that i ought to continue to focus on inner momentum. and worry much less about the rest. i have an abiding faith which is enough for now (and always). and now is all there is anyway - no day but today! speaking of which, it has been absolutely gorgeous weather for two days straight which simply makes me want to leave the office, sit on a rooftop somewhere and be fabulous! i'm not entirely sure what that involves, but i'm pretty sure it has something to do with champagne cocktails and outrageous shoes.** preferably while listening to jazz. or wild birds that sounds like keith jarrett on the piano. but i will not leave the office, and will continue to push forward the rule of law. and perhaps go shoe-shopping online. (maybe some external momentum on my feet will assist with the internal progress!)
*perhaps it always is.
**i recognise that this may sound like a wish to become a taitai. especially because whenever i scratch the surface of this particular illusion just a little bit, confusion ensues. really, there is only so much sipping of champagne cocktails and wearing big shoes one can do in a given day. so how to occupy the remaining time? i expect that there would be a lot of effort put into preparing for the moment when the sipping of cocktails commences. (being fabulous requires looking fabulous and that takes work.) this is when i realize that being a taitai might be rather tedious. even if time at the gym, spa, beauty salon, lunch, and shops (in preparation for the rooftop champers moment) occupies several hours, i know i would crave substance.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
a world changed
i awoke to find a world changed. there is a deep blanket of unblemished snow stretching forward from my doorstep and tightly containing the world. quite lovely really. and almost appropriate. there was terrible, ominous thunder and lightning last night around midnight. at the time i was in the midst of a difficult conversation with little trouble and it was a curious accompaniment. the strain of distance was crashing all around us with the thunder, and we agreed to take some space and time to think and feel through things. but i awoke this morning and while staring at the snow*, realized that i do not know how to actualize this. how to find the necessary space and navigate this unfamiliar terrain. the white world reflected back at me didn't have any answers. and i'm not sure that i do yet either. i am sure, however, that difficult though this may be, we will both grow. and love.
of course it is all more subtle than that. and the snow is a simple concept to capture the strangeness that seems to be holding me this morning. mercifully we are moving offices this morning, so i was going to be working from home anyway. so i have the space at least to consider the subtler aspects of this not-a-separation and take stock of my heart. and i can stay in my pyjamas, drink too much coffee, enjoy the brightness of the morning light thanks to the snow, and listen to jazz.
making coffee was the one constant this morning. there is such solace in rituals. i think i love the ritual of making coffee - with my tidy french press, the crack of the tin, scoop of the grounds, the rush of the water, the waiting, the sweet nuttiness of catching the last drop of soy milk with my finger as i pour it, the swirl of it - perhaps more than drinking the coffee. each of those moments mattered this morning. each moment was a soft nudge towards the center of myself. i need to fully fall into that center and stay there for a spell. (for always?)
i am of course frightened (though i cringe even to give voice to that word because i usually feel as though i am afraid of nothing (toss of my cape bravely over my shoulder!!)) of being in this city alone. that is, without an emotional mooring of my heartstrings to someone who though distant, is close in spirit** and who is the shore to my oceanic passions and also my ocean. but perhaps this is what brought me to beijing in the first place. to fall into myself completely finally. confront that and other fears, learn to love my quirks and foibles, and relinquish the nonsensical and punishing quest for perfection that i seem to have been on for too many years now. and at many points along the way (just last tuesday, and yesterday, for example), i like to tell myself that i'm there. i will remind myself to 'be really whole and the world will come to you.' but you can't tell yourself to be really whole. you simply have to be it.
last night during the dramatic crashing and thrashing of the skies and then again this morning as i was gazing out at the beautiful, harsh, astringent white world unfurling from my doorstep, i was reminded of a mary oliver poem. (i again almost rushed outside it to embrace the coldness and feel deeply alive, but reason beat passion again so i stayed in the warmth.) ahem:
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
this is perhaps a bit much for the present situation, and might sound melancholy, but i see it now as a reminder that all i can do is be my best self, fall into the center, be really whole. i think what i appreciate most about the idea of 'the journey' at this point in my life is accepting that we need one. and that it never ends. trust, wholeness, self-knowledge, acceptance, clarity, love - they do not come easily. they need to be earned. but the effort - that work - even the brokenhearted sobbing in the corner*** bits, are necessary and enabling. it is in those vulnerable moments when we come closest to ourselves. to the divine. to faith. and which allow our hearts to open further. so this too shall pass - the snow, the ache, the caffeine buzz. but i will not rush through. i know that great beauty and joy are waiting. (they always are.)
* why am i relating my emotional landscape to the weather so much these days?!? is it just more of my overly emotive nature / efforts to see connections everywhere? query.
** channeling goethe: "the world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers, and cities; but to know someone here and there who thinks and feels with us, and though distant, is close to us in spirit - this makes the earth for us an inhabited garden."
*** i prefer crying in corners when i can. not sure why.
of course it is all more subtle than that. and the snow is a simple concept to capture the strangeness that seems to be holding me this morning. mercifully we are moving offices this morning, so i was going to be working from home anyway. so i have the space at least to consider the subtler aspects of this not-a-separation and take stock of my heart. and i can stay in my pyjamas, drink too much coffee, enjoy the brightness of the morning light thanks to the snow, and listen to jazz.
making coffee was the one constant this morning. there is such solace in rituals. i think i love the ritual of making coffee - with my tidy french press, the crack of the tin, scoop of the grounds, the rush of the water, the waiting, the sweet nuttiness of catching the last drop of soy milk with my finger as i pour it, the swirl of it - perhaps more than drinking the coffee. each of those moments mattered this morning. each moment was a soft nudge towards the center of myself. i need to fully fall into that center and stay there for a spell. (for always?)
i am of course frightened (though i cringe even to give voice to that word because i usually feel as though i am afraid of nothing (toss of my cape bravely over my shoulder!!)) of being in this city alone. that is, without an emotional mooring of my heartstrings to someone who though distant, is close in spirit** and who is the shore to my oceanic passions and also my ocean. but perhaps this is what brought me to beijing in the first place. to fall into myself completely finally. confront that and other fears, learn to love my quirks and foibles, and relinquish the nonsensical and punishing quest for perfection that i seem to have been on for too many years now. and at many points along the way (just last tuesday, and yesterday, for example), i like to tell myself that i'm there. i will remind myself to 'be really whole and the world will come to you.' but you can't tell yourself to be really whole. you simply have to be it.
last night during the dramatic crashing and thrashing of the skies and then again this morning as i was gazing out at the beautiful, harsh, astringent white world unfurling from my doorstep, i was reminded of a mary oliver poem. (i again almost rushed outside it to embrace the coldness and feel deeply alive, but reason beat passion again so i stayed in the warmth.) ahem:
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
this is perhaps a bit much for the present situation, and might sound melancholy, but i see it now as a reminder that all i can do is be my best self, fall into the center, be really whole. i think what i appreciate most about the idea of 'the journey' at this point in my life is accepting that we need one. and that it never ends. trust, wholeness, self-knowledge, acceptance, clarity, love - they do not come easily. they need to be earned. but the effort - that work - even the brokenhearted sobbing in the corner*** bits, are necessary and enabling. it is in those vulnerable moments when we come closest to ourselves. to the divine. to faith. and which allow our hearts to open further. so this too shall pass - the snow, the ache, the caffeine buzz. but i will not rush through. i know that great beauty and joy are waiting. (they always are.)
* why am i relating my emotional landscape to the weather so much these days?!? is it just more of my overly emotive nature / efforts to see connections everywhere? query.
** channeling goethe: "the world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers, and cities; but to know someone here and there who thinks and feels with us, and though distant, is close to us in spirit - this makes the earth for us an inhabited garden."
*** i prefer crying in corners when i can. not sure why.
Monday, November 9, 2009
of angels and afterglow
my yoga practice this morning was disrupted by a swift and startling hail storm. it arrived so suddenly. it was overwhelming and fierce and gorgeous. the universe's hurling reminder to live to the point of tears, to pay attention, to be really whole and let the world come to you. or at least that's how i interpreted it. i stopped my practice and ran to the into to watch it pound us with perspective. i contemplated dancing in it, celebrating it somehow - life's secret outpouring (outpouring of life's secrets?) at 6:58 am. but reason (dancing in a hail storm in yoga clothes would likely bring my cold back) won over passion (dance!). for some reason, writing this is reminding me of one of my favourite brian andreas quotes - "most people don't know there are angels whose only job is to make sure you don't get too comfortable & fall asleep & miss your life". angels appear in all sorts of unexpected places.
speaking of unexpected places, i found myself translating an interview about china, nationalism, and identity with mao's secretary. for real. he's 90, but still very lucid, thoughtful and engaging. he was sporting the elder comrade commifabulous modern mao suit, think glasses and a shock of white hair. we met in the gui bing lou of the beijing hotel and after our meeting his black sedan with white plates (=party member) was waiting to escort him back to his flat which i realized afterwards must be in zhongnanhai (the compound for the party leadership) and explains why we couldn't meet him there. the circumstances of how i ended up translating for two millenials** is frankly insulting. and the girls themselves were less than inspiring. (aside: they want to take me to dinner to thank me for my time / doing their homework for them, but i don't think i care to spend anymore time attempting to connect with them. once upon a lifetime, a former self was willing to endure dull conversation for good, free meals (that was called "dating"). but i'm no longer willing to waste precious time (hailstorm! tempus fugit! don't sacrifice!) just for the sake of a nice meal. of course, my courtesy will likely win out in the end and i will probably go to dinner with these gals and try to be kind and see the good in them. for luckily i've found that i can see the good in just about everyone.) circumstances aside, i was intrigued by the opportunity to meet this man and here his perspective on the 60 years of the PRC. he started off in yen'an during the japanese resistance movement, found himself as mao's secretary, was disgraced, imprisoned and tortured during the cultural revolution (& wrote about about it), and was then redeemed by deng xiaopeng. (ahh, to have fallen from grace and to have been rescued by a multi-coloured cat!) he was thoughtful about china's past (and said he thought mao got arrogant after the nation was formally established, but i think he was being polite and towing the party line, while honestly had more critical things to say about the great helmsman.) the millenial and her roommate asked obvious, not particularly probing questions. and they didn't show - or weren't prepared to show - the level of respect i think the circumstances dictated (look up how to say "it's an honour to meet you" or ask me in advance). i inserted the appropriate niceties as best i could. because i did think it was an honour to meet him. i am fortunate enough to have two grandmothers in their 90s and feel that i have so much to learn from people who have seen so much.
though i still have much to learn, i feel as though i am getting closer to mastering the dinner party. i made my mum's vegetarian chilli yesterday (secret to the deliciousness: raisins, cashews, beer!) and had some friends over for dinner. i also, because i am an obsessive baker these days (what is that about?!?) made wholewheat honey bread to go with it. and oatmeal raisin cranberry dark chocolate chunk cookies. somehow it all just came together very nicely - the food, the company, the feeling. (the music was a little odd, but my ipod is strangely possessed. also, little trouble has tampered with it a lot.) it felt liberating in a curious way. i love feeding people. and i love bringing people together. but in some corner of my mind i think i still associated dinner parties with something i would do with a partner (and have done so only when little trouble is in town in the past). and i don't have completely matching tableware or such, but am clearly not getting married and likely to get it anytime soon. but i realized in the warm afterglow of saying goodnight as the guests stepped off into the crisp cold and i turned to the soapy warmth of washing up to loud music and the last sips of my wine, that it's not about a partner or plates. that i can create community and spread love on my own. and indeed, have been doing so for many years (always?) without realizing it. it was a nice quiet realization. especially because i have been feeling a bit burned by the distance lately and a little troubled about things with little trouble. but i am tired of trembling with the strain of worrying too much or trying not to worry. so am just living my life, looking for love and joy each day and finding angels in hailstorms. i finally feel as though i am building a real life here, and am enjoying that. i only wish that little trouble could be a part of it. and i hope we find a way to be in the same place before the distance becomes toxic (if it is not already).
on a more positive note, i am concluding this day marveling at how life can unfold, content after a meal with a friend, and full of poetry and possibility. i'm not sure that angels could ask for anything more.
**my preferred term for the current crop of college students, recent graduates, and even law students who just seem to not have much of a clue and have a sense of entitlement that is frankly frightening. i confess this is something i may have something of a soapbox about. it just always baffles me. who do these kids think they are? and why does it seem that there is little to no conversation about, for example, how to approach an internship proactively and consider your role as adding value to and learning from the employer? why does the emphasis always seem to be about what the intern expects to gain and not what s/he hopes to contribute or add? there is a real selfishness that i've observed in young people perhaps half a generation behind me. it's always shocking. in this case, it was particularly so. the coed who called me to do this (confession: yes, i just wanted to use the term 'coed' and yes i know it's ridiculous) is the daughter of a woman who is basically on the board of my ngo and who has deep connections in china. the board member's parents (millienial's grandparents) had a connection with mao's secretary and his family. millienial and her roommate are both in beijing studying this year (incidentally at the same university my brother taught at years ago which has a soft spot in my heart because his time in china really marked the blossoming of our relationship which is something i truly cherish). as part of their program they are taking a 'chinese culture' class (taught in english) and they had an assignment to interview a chinese person about nationalism and the 60th anniversary and all that jazz. millenial and roommate decided they wanted to interview wang zhongfang, mao's secretary. she had her mother send me and my partner-in-crime (maybe i should call her my work wife? i had a work husband once (my comrade and go-to for emotional support at the office; i still call him that), but in this case it's an even more apt description) an urgent email asking us to help her. these two basically can't speak any comprehensible chinese even though they've been studying the language for more than a year at an ivy league university plus three months in beijing. so i had to call this respected elder statesman and arrange the interview and then take them there and then basically conduct the interview - he couldn't understand their questions and they couldn't understand his responses. it was an interesting exercise in simultaneous translation for me. but, as i was reflecting on the fact that a board member thought this an appropriate request to make or that her daughter thought it an appropriate use of her mother's connection, i realized that it all smacked of what drives me crazy about certain millenials. she would have had a broader learning experience if she had had to stand on her own two feet and find someone she could actually speak to (it's not exactly hard to find a chinese person to talk to in beijing), rather than fall back on privilege and mummy's guanxi (connections). but that's just it - the millenial essence. this sense of entitlement or idea that the entire world can bend to satisfy your whims rather than being satisfied with doing what you can do on your own. then again, i contributed to that idea by disrupting my work week to help her. but did i have a choice given her mother's position in my ngo?
speaking of unexpected places, i found myself translating an interview about china, nationalism, and identity with mao's secretary. for real. he's 90, but still very lucid, thoughtful and engaging. he was sporting the elder comrade commifabulous modern mao suit, think glasses and a shock of white hair. we met in the gui bing lou of the beijing hotel and after our meeting his black sedan with white plates (=party member) was waiting to escort him back to his flat which i realized afterwards must be in zhongnanhai (the compound for the party leadership) and explains why we couldn't meet him there. the circumstances of how i ended up translating for two millenials** is frankly insulting. and the girls themselves were less than inspiring. (aside: they want to take me to dinner to thank me for my time / doing their homework for them, but i don't think i care to spend anymore time attempting to connect with them. once upon a lifetime, a former self was willing to endure dull conversation for good, free meals (that was called "dating"). but i'm no longer willing to waste precious time (hailstorm! tempus fugit! don't sacrifice!) just for the sake of a nice meal. of course, my courtesy will likely win out in the end and i will probably go to dinner with these gals and try to be kind and see the good in them. for luckily i've found that i can see the good in just about everyone.) circumstances aside, i was intrigued by the opportunity to meet this man and here his perspective on the 60 years of the PRC. he started off in yen'an during the japanese resistance movement, found himself as mao's secretary, was disgraced, imprisoned and tortured during the cultural revolution (& wrote about about it), and was then redeemed by deng xiaopeng. (ahh, to have fallen from grace and to have been rescued by a multi-coloured cat!) he was thoughtful about china's past (and said he thought mao got arrogant after the nation was formally established, but i think he was being polite and towing the party line, while honestly had more critical things to say about the great helmsman.) the millenial and her roommate asked obvious, not particularly probing questions. and they didn't show - or weren't prepared to show - the level of respect i think the circumstances dictated (look up how to say "it's an honour to meet you" or ask me in advance). i inserted the appropriate niceties as best i could. because i did think it was an honour to meet him. i am fortunate enough to have two grandmothers in their 90s and feel that i have so much to learn from people who have seen so much.
though i still have much to learn, i feel as though i am getting closer to mastering the dinner party. i made my mum's vegetarian chilli yesterday (secret to the deliciousness: raisins, cashews, beer!) and had some friends over for dinner. i also, because i am an obsessive baker these days (what is that about?!?) made wholewheat honey bread to go with it. and oatmeal raisin cranberry dark chocolate chunk cookies. somehow it all just came together very nicely - the food, the company, the feeling. (the music was a little odd, but my ipod is strangely possessed. also, little trouble has tampered with it a lot.) it felt liberating in a curious way. i love feeding people. and i love bringing people together. but in some corner of my mind i think i still associated dinner parties with something i would do with a partner (and have done so only when little trouble is in town in the past). and i don't have completely matching tableware or such, but am clearly not getting married and likely to get it anytime soon. but i realized in the warm afterglow of saying goodnight as the guests stepped off into the crisp cold and i turned to the soapy warmth of washing up to loud music and the last sips of my wine, that it's not about a partner or plates. that i can create community and spread love on my own. and indeed, have been doing so for many years (always?) without realizing it. it was a nice quiet realization. especially because i have been feeling a bit burned by the distance lately and a little troubled about things with little trouble. but i am tired of trembling with the strain of worrying too much or trying not to worry. so am just living my life, looking for love and joy each day and finding angels in hailstorms. i finally feel as though i am building a real life here, and am enjoying that. i only wish that little trouble could be a part of it. and i hope we find a way to be in the same place before the distance becomes toxic (if it is not already).
on a more positive note, i am concluding this day marveling at how life can unfold, content after a meal with a friend, and full of poetry and possibility. i'm not sure that angels could ask for anything more.
**my preferred term for the current crop of college students, recent graduates, and even law students who just seem to not have much of a clue and have a sense of entitlement that is frankly frightening. i confess this is something i may have something of a soapbox about. it just always baffles me. who do these kids think they are? and why does it seem that there is little to no conversation about, for example, how to approach an internship proactively and consider your role as adding value to and learning from the employer? why does the emphasis always seem to be about what the intern expects to gain and not what s/he hopes to contribute or add? there is a real selfishness that i've observed in young people perhaps half a generation behind me. it's always shocking. in this case, it was particularly so. the coed who called me to do this (confession: yes, i just wanted to use the term 'coed' and yes i know it's ridiculous) is the daughter of a woman who is basically on the board of my ngo and who has deep connections in china. the board member's parents (millienial's grandparents) had a connection with mao's secretary and his family. millienial and her roommate are both in beijing studying this year (incidentally at the same university my brother taught at years ago which has a soft spot in my heart because his time in china really marked the blossoming of our relationship which is something i truly cherish). as part of their program they are taking a 'chinese culture' class (taught in english) and they had an assignment to interview a chinese person about nationalism and the 60th anniversary and all that jazz. millenial and roommate decided they wanted to interview wang zhongfang, mao's secretary. she had her mother send me and my partner-in-crime (maybe i should call her my work wife? i had a work husband once (my comrade and go-to for emotional support at the office; i still call him that), but in this case it's an even more apt description) an urgent email asking us to help her. these two basically can't speak any comprehensible chinese even though they've been studying the language for more than a year at an ivy league university plus three months in beijing. so i had to call this respected elder statesman and arrange the interview and then take them there and then basically conduct the interview - he couldn't understand their questions and they couldn't understand his responses. it was an interesting exercise in simultaneous translation for me. but, as i was reflecting on the fact that a board member thought this an appropriate request to make or that her daughter thought it an appropriate use of her mother's connection, i realized that it all smacked of what drives me crazy about certain millenials. she would have had a broader learning experience if she had had to stand on her own two feet and find someone she could actually speak to (it's not exactly hard to find a chinese person to talk to in beijing), rather than fall back on privilege and mummy's guanxi (connections). but that's just it - the millenial essence. this sense of entitlement or idea that the entire world can bend to satisfy your whims rather than being satisfied with doing what you can do on your own. then again, i contributed to that idea by disrupting my work week to help her. but did i have a choice given her mother's position in my ngo?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, September 14, 2009
red china blues
so a sweet message from a sweet old beijing tongxue now in south africa inspired me to tooter once more to the brink and consider collecting my thoughts. naturally, i questioned again (and then again) about who or what this is for. but i've decided that’s no matter. there is something lost in me when i am not writing, or creating, in some small way. i’ve recognized that. and i can’t always find that place through work, or even through witty emails, or poems about imaginary pets. not even yoga brings me there (that’s a journey of a different, albeit related, sort). so, i’ve decided to just write. and not worry about whether anyone’s reading. or whether i make insightful or instructive comments about justice or whether i spend too much time getting lost in the stirrings of my hummingbird heart. (though isn’t personal narrative what makes justice worthwhile or interesting in the first place?)
personal narrative. it's what makes the world go ‘round. or at least allows us to relate. ‘red china blues’ was the title of a memoir about china i read several years ago. it was the typically cultural revolution tale, told through the eyes of one woman. (when we lent the book to my auntie jung, she covered it with newspaper so that if she was seen reading it on the bus, no one would know.) it feels belittling to say that in a way – “the typical cultural revolution tale” – because how could the intensely traumatic and brutal experiences of that one young women ever be “typical”? but they are. like that one woman, millions of teenagers saw their families torn apart or destroyed, witnessed the humiliation, brutalization or murder of their parents, were sent to remote areas of the country to work punishing hours in fields and factories without compensation or food. these individuals, each of whom suffered unique and terrible traumas, are now in their 50s. some fled and wrote best-selling memoirs detailing the horrors they experienced. i hope that they found some release in that. but for those who have stayed behind, there has never really been any public katharsis. and to speak of your own pain seems strange in a nation where nearly everyone your age has a similar story. how to you privately heal in such circumstances? one close family friend of ours provides economic support to educate the children of the village that he was “sent down” to during the cultural revolution. he says he is alive only thanks to the generosity of this impoverished tiny community that spared two potatoes a day for him for three years. as smart as he is big-hearted, this friend secured a coveted spot in the first class at beijing university when it reopened after the cultural revolution crumbled. i wonder if finding a way to give back is somewhat more than an expression of gratitude. perhaps it is part of a healing process, acknowledging those years of hardship and the six years he was unable to contact or locate his parents or three siblings. perhaps it is just kindness.
i recalled the enticing title of that book recently because i’ve had a case of the red china blues. although i think i may be recovering. i was quietly happy to be returning to beijing last night (although i am writing this en route to hong kong and then chiang mai, where i’ll be visiting little trouble and spending a week considering environmental legal advocacy in the mekong region, respectively). this case of the blues, if you can call them that, is a broader consciousness and growing concern about china. i am perhaps more
critical now of this government than i ever have been. i think this is healthy because i spent many years to enamoured with or protective of china to see clearly or think critically about the implications of this regime or its polices. (it is hard to clearly see things that we are too close to.) with time, distance, education, adulthood, travel (take your pick), my perspective has shifted. whereas once i was the one always singing china’s song, i know find myself cast as the shadow of doom in china conversations. the world seems so ready and willing to embrace china without question these days, and it frightens me. this is not a benign government. and they are quietly amassing power in subtle and complicated ways. i worry about china becoming the dominant superpower in the world. (and for those who say she lacks the creativity to do so, who needs creativity when you have seemingly limitless (opaque) markets?)
i had a rewarding two weeks back in the states. personally, i was able to connect with friends and family. professionally, a study tour i had helped to pull together for chinese judges on domestic violence and civil protection orders was just fantastically successful. so much better than i had even imagined. but my partner-in-crime (an anti-violence advocate and a researcher at the institute for applied jurisprudence, a think tank attached to the supreme people’s court) and i had to be all cloak-and-dagger about my involvement and obscure our relationship. she and her colleague even had to sneak out of their hotel to attend a meeting i arranged with one of the experts who will be part of our upcoming judicial training on domestic violence. the night before the group left, the foreign affairs bureau informed them that the tour they were going on, organized via the state department’s international visitors program, was political and was an effort by the united states government to brainwash them. they were given strict marching orders about how they were to conduct themselves while on the tour. when this was recounted to me, i couldn’t help but wonder when the cold war became chic again. oh, and just to be safe, the foreign affairs bureau planted one of the participants who was surely a spy (and none too subtle about it!)
my blues – professional frustrations and personal reflections – will dissolve, however, in moments that some how go beyond them. the study tour coincided with labour day weekend, so the state department planned on arranging a “home hospitality” program with an american family as part of the program. naturally, i volunteered my parents. so we had the group of nine judges and scholars over for a pool party and bbq. perhaps the best part was when one of the judges was admiring our yard, and my father responded by saying, “yes, but in china you don’t have to worry about cutting the grass.” the judge replied by saying, “but we want to cut grass; i have always wanted to cut grass.” ba immediately jumped up, saying, “you do? come on. follow me.” a few moments later we heard the sound of the lawnmower starting and soon judge luo was pushing it, or more accurately being pulled by it, around the back yard. two more judges then ran down for turns cutting the grass. it was a classic cultural exchange. one man’s chore is another man’s great new tourist experience.
the most fascinating cultural exchange of the trip happened in boston. among the many excellent program activities in boston was a meeting with the founder of common purpose, a local batterers intervention program. the founder, mitch, arranged to have a few facilitators from the program accompany him and also put together a panel of men who were in the process of going through the program because they had been sentenced to do so by a judge. when they walked into the room, there was a great pause in my thoughts for a moment. in all my anti-violence work, we toss around terms like “abusers” or “batterers” without thought to those labels. and suddenly, here they were. real, live “batterers” walking into a sunlight side room in the dorchester district court. they were a curious combination of swagger and shame, testosterone and nerves. i measured my own reaction and noted the moment of fear. but that fear quickly gave way to empathy, “batterers” or not, these were people and worthy of compassion. i made a point of introducing myself to and shaking the hands of each man, thanking them in advance for their willingness to participate. for participating in that panel, sharing about the deeply personal, painful, and shameful process of being ordered to participate in this program and how it is influencing them, cannot have been easy. the chinese side was at first a bit shell-shocked and i worried for a moment that they would not engage. but once they did, the exchange was fascinating and, i hope, meaningful for both sides. the judge who boldly asked the first question was a complete surprise to me. a conservative sort with a terrible combover, he usually seemed more interested in videotaping than asking questions. but he asked the men about the methodology the program employed, explaining that in china, they value balance – yin yang – and that anger is a natural human emotion, so if the methodology of the program was to teach them to suppress their anger, he thought that might eventually lead to problems or illness, but if the methodology was to help them to develop other means of releasing their anger, he wanted to know what those were and whether they were effective. my heart smiled to judge yi in that moment because that question was the perfect opening for a thoughtful discussion on anger and so much more, but it also was respectful of the assembled men. the group gave each of the program participants chinese stamps depicting the longest bridge in china, and the men seemed genuinely please with the gifts. i hope that in some small way their experience with us in that sunny room helps them constructing their own bridges to better places. bridges which, like those in stamps, i imagine must be very long.
so now i am full of hope, watching lazy clouds out my window. maybe i don’t have the red china blues after all. or maybe, just maybe, a moment of reflection is all i need as a remedy.
personal narrative. it's what makes the world go ‘round. or at least allows us to relate. ‘red china blues’ was the title of a memoir about china i read several years ago. it was the typically cultural revolution tale, told through the eyes of one woman. (when we lent the book to my auntie jung, she covered it with newspaper so that if she was seen reading it on the bus, no one would know.) it feels belittling to say that in a way – “the typical cultural revolution tale” – because how could the intensely traumatic and brutal experiences of that one young women ever be “typical”? but they are. like that one woman, millions of teenagers saw their families torn apart or destroyed, witnessed the humiliation, brutalization or murder of their parents, were sent to remote areas of the country to work punishing hours in fields and factories without compensation or food. these individuals, each of whom suffered unique and terrible traumas, are now in their 50s. some fled and wrote best-selling memoirs detailing the horrors they experienced. i hope that they found some release in that. but for those who have stayed behind, there has never really been any public katharsis. and to speak of your own pain seems strange in a nation where nearly everyone your age has a similar story. how to you privately heal in such circumstances? one close family friend of ours provides economic support to educate the children of the village that he was “sent down” to during the cultural revolution. he says he is alive only thanks to the generosity of this impoverished tiny community that spared two potatoes a day for him for three years. as smart as he is big-hearted, this friend secured a coveted spot in the first class at beijing university when it reopened after the cultural revolution crumbled. i wonder if finding a way to give back is somewhat more than an expression of gratitude. perhaps it is part of a healing process, acknowledging those years of hardship and the six years he was unable to contact or locate his parents or three siblings. perhaps it is just kindness.
i recalled the enticing title of that book recently because i’ve had a case of the red china blues. although i think i may be recovering. i was quietly happy to be returning to beijing last night (although i am writing this en route to hong kong and then chiang mai, where i’ll be visiting little trouble and spending a week considering environmental legal advocacy in the mekong region, respectively). this case of the blues, if you can call them that, is a broader consciousness and growing concern about china. i am perhaps more
critical now of this government than i ever have been. i think this is healthy because i spent many years to enamoured with or protective of china to see clearly or think critically about the implications of this regime or its polices. (it is hard to clearly see things that we are too close to.) with time, distance, education, adulthood, travel (take your pick), my perspective has shifted. whereas once i was the one always singing china’s song, i know find myself cast as the shadow of doom in china conversations. the world seems so ready and willing to embrace china without question these days, and it frightens me. this is not a benign government. and they are quietly amassing power in subtle and complicated ways. i worry about china becoming the dominant superpower in the world. (and for those who say she lacks the creativity to do so, who needs creativity when you have seemingly limitless (opaque) markets?)
i had a rewarding two weeks back in the states. personally, i was able to connect with friends and family. professionally, a study tour i had helped to pull together for chinese judges on domestic violence and civil protection orders was just fantastically successful. so much better than i had even imagined. but my partner-in-crime (an anti-violence advocate and a researcher at the institute for applied jurisprudence, a think tank attached to the supreme people’s court) and i had to be all cloak-and-dagger about my involvement and obscure our relationship. she and her colleague even had to sneak out of their hotel to attend a meeting i arranged with one of the experts who will be part of our upcoming judicial training on domestic violence. the night before the group left, the foreign affairs bureau informed them that the tour they were going on, organized via the state department’s international visitors program, was political and was an effort by the united states government to brainwash them. they were given strict marching orders about how they were to conduct themselves while on the tour. when this was recounted to me, i couldn’t help but wonder when the cold war became chic again. oh, and just to be safe, the foreign affairs bureau planted one of the participants who was surely a spy (and none too subtle about it!)
my blues – professional frustrations and personal reflections – will dissolve, however, in moments that some how go beyond them. the study tour coincided with labour day weekend, so the state department planned on arranging a “home hospitality” program with an american family as part of the program. naturally, i volunteered my parents. so we had the group of nine judges and scholars over for a pool party and bbq. perhaps the best part was when one of the judges was admiring our yard, and my father responded by saying, “yes, but in china you don’t have to worry about cutting the grass.” the judge replied by saying, “but we want to cut grass; i have always wanted to cut grass.” ba immediately jumped up, saying, “you do? come on. follow me.” a few moments later we heard the sound of the lawnmower starting and soon judge luo was pushing it, or more accurately being pulled by it, around the back yard. two more judges then ran down for turns cutting the grass. it was a classic cultural exchange. one man’s chore is another man’s great new tourist experience.
the most fascinating cultural exchange of the trip happened in boston. among the many excellent program activities in boston was a meeting with the founder of common purpose, a local batterers intervention program. the founder, mitch, arranged to have a few facilitators from the program accompany him and also put together a panel of men who were in the process of going through the program because they had been sentenced to do so by a judge. when they walked into the room, there was a great pause in my thoughts for a moment. in all my anti-violence work, we toss around terms like “abusers” or “batterers” without thought to those labels. and suddenly, here they were. real, live “batterers” walking into a sunlight side room in the dorchester district court. they were a curious combination of swagger and shame, testosterone and nerves. i measured my own reaction and noted the moment of fear. but that fear quickly gave way to empathy, “batterers” or not, these were people and worthy of compassion. i made a point of introducing myself to and shaking the hands of each man, thanking them in advance for their willingness to participate. for participating in that panel, sharing about the deeply personal, painful, and shameful process of being ordered to participate in this program and how it is influencing them, cannot have been easy. the chinese side was at first a bit shell-shocked and i worried for a moment that they would not engage. but once they did, the exchange was fascinating and, i hope, meaningful for both sides. the judge who boldly asked the first question was a complete surprise to me. a conservative sort with a terrible combover, he usually seemed more interested in videotaping than asking questions. but he asked the men about the methodology the program employed, explaining that in china, they value balance – yin yang – and that anger is a natural human emotion, so if the methodology of the program was to teach them to suppress their anger, he thought that might eventually lead to problems or illness, but if the methodology was to help them to develop other means of releasing their anger, he wanted to know what those were and whether they were effective. my heart smiled to judge yi in that moment because that question was the perfect opening for a thoughtful discussion on anger and so much more, but it also was respectful of the assembled men. the group gave each of the program participants chinese stamps depicting the longest bridge in china, and the men seemed genuinely please with the gifts. i hope that in some small way their experience with us in that sunny room helps them constructing their own bridges to better places. bridges which, like those in stamps, i imagine must be very long.
so now i am full of hope, watching lazy clouds out my window. maybe i don’t have the red china blues after all. or maybe, just maybe, a moment of reflection is all i need as a remedy.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
strength in the differences between us, comfort where we overlap
so, in spite of years of my not being here, neither an inch nor half a globe too far, i've finally decided to start gathering my wandering thoughts. perhaps it took coming back to beijing for me to finally brave blogging, because returning to the most formative city of my youth was coming full circle and proffered a profound opportunity for reflection, introspection, and mediocre poetry.* or perhaps it simply took learning that the u.s. embassy uses twitter to send out updates on pollution levels in beijing. (if the embassy is hip enough to twitter, surely i can blog.)
although this is my first 'post', i have a bit of a storeroom full of thoughts and plots that i hope sharing here will allow for some sort of katharsis / epiphany / amusement. i realize as i tried to complete that sentence that i don't have a particular agenda. "all red on the inside" refers to a failed effort i made to express the idea of common humanity to a group of chinese classmates in 1997. i'll share the complete story at some point. at the time, i was seeking to convey a concept of the universal - that we are all, regardless of country, race, religion, culture, more alike than different. the image failed then (they thought i was talking about communism). but my faith in the universal hasn't faltered.
this thimbleful of thoughts, then, will consider themes of universality, reveling in our beautiful differences and appreciating the soft spots of common overlap. (that's a very lofty way of saying i will write about anything / everything and it will likely touch on cross-cultural themes because so does life.) being the creature that i am, a public interest lawyer newly returned to china, be prepared for pontifications on justice and jiaozi.... in fact, maybe i should write exclusively about justice and jiaozi. or maybe just a justice and jiaozi weekly dish - the most interesting legal issue of the week and the best thing i've eaten. hmmm. so far this week it was a particularly delicious doushabing** on tuesday morning and a real appreciation for an independent judiciary on monday afternoon (a topic i intend to return to in detail at some point).
with that, comrades, it begins.
*i write mediocre poetry. no, i am not being humble, just honest. i like to think of it as a unique niche talent. many, many people write poor poetry. (many people also write self-indulgent poem-like, clammy things that are best thrown into the ocean.) a small handful write excellent poetry. (a very, very small handful of people write transcendent, beautiful poetry that stays with you always.) a few people write good poetry. a few people write fair poetry. hitting the sweet spot of mediocrity is actually quite special and harder to achieve than you think. it's a delicate balance to strike that perfect chord between good and bad. yet somehow, i have been blessed with a talent for writing mediocre poetry. on occasion, i confess, i falter and a poem ends up sliding down the scale to bad (or even worse - melodramatic). perhaps once, i faltered and produced an almost good poem. but generally, without to much effort, my poetry is soundly mediocre. i never plan to write a poem. usually, a poem just comes to me and begs to be written and i ignore the poem as long as possible and then when i cannot contain it any longer, i write it. i think of them like unruly baby swans.
** red bean bread. i am kind of obsessed with doushabing. red bean in general, really. speaking of red bean, it occurred to me while walking to work this morning as i was eating doushabao (red bean steamed buns), that if you were to cut me open, i might bleed red bean i eat it so much. then i realized what a ridiculous thought that was and wondered how it ever occurred to me to even think it. then i was almost hit by a bicycle.
although this is my first 'post', i have a bit of a storeroom full of thoughts and plots that i hope sharing here will allow for some sort of katharsis / epiphany / amusement. i realize as i tried to complete that sentence that i don't have a particular agenda. "all red on the inside" refers to a failed effort i made to express the idea of common humanity to a group of chinese classmates in 1997. i'll share the complete story at some point. at the time, i was seeking to convey a concept of the universal - that we are all, regardless of country, race, religion, culture, more alike than different. the image failed then (they thought i was talking about communism). but my faith in the universal hasn't faltered.
this thimbleful of thoughts, then, will consider themes of universality, reveling in our beautiful differences and appreciating the soft spots of common overlap. (that's a very lofty way of saying i will write about anything / everything and it will likely touch on cross-cultural themes because so does life.) being the creature that i am, a public interest lawyer newly returned to china, be prepared for pontifications on justice and jiaozi.... in fact, maybe i should write exclusively about justice and jiaozi. or maybe just a justice and jiaozi weekly dish - the most interesting legal issue of the week and the best thing i've eaten. hmmm. so far this week it was a particularly delicious doushabing** on tuesday morning and a real appreciation for an independent judiciary on monday afternoon (a topic i intend to return to in detail at some point).
with that, comrades, it begins.
*i write mediocre poetry. no, i am not being humble, just honest. i like to think of it as a unique niche talent. many, many people write poor poetry. (many people also write self-indulgent poem-like, clammy things that are best thrown into the ocean.) a small handful write excellent poetry. (a very, very small handful of people write transcendent, beautiful poetry that stays with you always.) a few people write good poetry. a few people write fair poetry. hitting the sweet spot of mediocrity is actually quite special and harder to achieve than you think. it's a delicate balance to strike that perfect chord between good and bad. yet somehow, i have been blessed with a talent for writing mediocre poetry. on occasion, i confess, i falter and a poem ends up sliding down the scale to bad (or even worse - melodramatic). perhaps once, i faltered and produced an almost good poem. but generally, without to much effort, my poetry is soundly mediocre. i never plan to write a poem. usually, a poem just comes to me and begs to be written and i ignore the poem as long as possible and then when i cannot contain it any longer, i write it. i think of them like unruly baby swans.
** red bean bread. i am kind of obsessed with doushabing. red bean in general, really. speaking of red bean, it occurred to me while walking to work this morning as i was eating doushabao (red bean steamed buns), that if you were to cut me open, i might bleed red bean i eat it so much. then i realized what a ridiculous thought that was and wondered how it ever occurred to me to even think it. then i was almost hit by a bicycle.
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