passion that can't be chased indoors for anything

it is my last day in paradise. cloudy for the first time, but just as well*. i don't mind the slightly overcast skies as my spirits are soaring, my thoughts lofty, and i still have passion that can't be chased indoors for anything. this, however, is not news. what is news is the sense of calm and stillness these last few days have allowed. and the seismic shift in my life that is about to take place. although perhaps that's a bit dramatic. it's just a shift in career, after all. the fundamentals shall stay the same. (they always do.) it's curious though, how much of who we are seems to hang suspended on what we do. at least in some cultures. however, who we are and how we exist in the world may in fact have very little to do with our occupations. and yet ideally we should find careers that nourish in many senses - literally (food on the table), personally (engaging and feeding the mind), spiritually (cultivating compassion and inspiration to better oneself), and communally / worldly (contributing in some small way to bettering us all). i know that sounds terribly cliched, but i am a world-impover after all. yet when i write this, i don't mean to suggest that we all need to be saving baby turtles or knitting sweaters for war orphans. i think you can just was easily find that nourishment - in all of those senses - on almost any path. (almost being the operative word in that sentence.) i read a quote about this once. ahem:

What the world needs more than anything is bodhisattvas, active servants of peace, “clothed,” as Longchenpa said, “in the armor of perseverance,” dedicated to their bodhisattva vision and to the spreading of wisdom into all reaches of our experience. We need bodhisattva lawyers, bodhisattva artists and politicians, bodhisattva doctors and economists, bodhisattva teachers and scientists, bodhisattva technicians and engineers, bodhisattvas everywhere, working consciously as channels of compassion and wisdom at every level and in every situation of society; working to transform their minds and actions and those of others, working tirelessly in the certain knowledge of the support of the buddhas and enlightened beings for the preservation of our world and for a more merciful future.

hear hear. i'm all for a more merciful future. particularly after these most merciful few days. on my first day, as i enjoyed an cool tall glass of red zinger (beet, carrot, cucumber and ginger*** juice), a charming member of the staff came over to introduce himself. attractive, of medium build, and wearing distinctive glasses, he greeted me in thai and then switched to english, introducing himself as 'wut'. we chatted a bit. he then asked if he could tell me something. i said, what? and wut said, 'remember that you are here to be on holiday and you need to relax and be happy'. what? wut? wooot! in that moment i decided i loved this wut. and what. the what of pure fascination with life as it is, however it is. it has been a blissful few days of yoga, mango & sticky rice, rambutans, reading, swimming, running, writing, reflecting, & enjoying my own company. i declined to meet up with my friend's friends in the end. although i felt a bit sheepish about doing so. (it felt so selfish to guard my desire to be alone.) all the more so when on my second night here wut was already encouraging me to join the communal dinner table. this is a table full of other travelers (single or otherwise) keen to share their meal and be social. not even two days in and already there was pressure to be social! wut suggested i might enjoy meeting new friends. i politely declined. (what?) i was really more than content on my own. i spend my whole life at the communal table. half the time i am constructing the communal table myself, or at least laying out the place settings. i came all the way here to escape the communal table, much as i enjoy it in my real life. thankfully wut didn't press it further, although he still made a point of checking in on me every day.

other than wut's whats (and hows and whys and wheres), the main assessing of my days here has involved alignment. i had a 90 minute private yoga session each day with a charming flemish woman who had a very precisely kind way of describing the world, the body, and how the two converse and are one. we worked in very small, subtle ways and i appreciated our time together on a wooden floor overlooking the ocean. i hope i can hold onto just some small part of the new openness we've nurtured into my mid-back. i think when i start this new job i think i need to insist on bringing a medicine ball or some sort of spine-friendly chair to sit upon even if it looks silly. it's time.

and of course amid all of this beauty and grace and sunshine and inspiration, i found myself overflowing with passion(s). love and a desire to give and give again. in many ways. thus the subject of this post. even if i will be chased indoors (and in fact chased into autumn as summer has fled beijing) tomorrow and need to leave this paradise behind, i can take my irrepressible passion with me. who could ask for anything more? what?



*just as well because i allowed myself to be in the direct sun for a very brief amount of time yesterday. maybe an hour and a half. with 85++ sunscreen on. (i know, i don't know if it makes any difference either, but it sounds impressive and i reckon i need all the protection i can get. some say that nothing over 15 makes a difference. probably true. but i try to involve 8s in my life as much as possible, so there is also that.) reapplication was also involved. and yet. and yet i still managed to get burned on my chest. you can very clearly see where the sunscreen wasn't sufficiently rubbed in. sigh. i know we all lack some vital nutrient since we don't get enough exposure to sunlight in our modern lifestyles, but i had a soup that involved pureed carrots and coconut oil yesterday at lunch and i'd like to think that made up for it since i clearly cannot handle sunbathing anymore. (it is vitamin d that we lack, yes? and that is also in carrots, no? yes, no, maybe so?) aside from the splotchy burn, and even though my head was almost always covered with my hat, the pregnancy on my face** also came back. which means enough sun for meiling this trip. and to think i just to be able to lie in the sun for long, languorous stretches of time! ahh the folly of youth and young skin. (although i always burned then too. i just didn't mind as much.)

**the pregnancy on my face is a skin condition, otherwise known as melasma, that was diagnosed on valentines day in 2008, almost exactly six months before my 30th birthday. i recall these details because this was my first trip to a dermatologist and in my naiveté i confused going to see this medical professional with going to the spa. after a straight male friend commented on the 'dark splotch' on my cheek, i decided it was worth exploring what the increasing discolouration i'd noticed might be. i made an appointment for valentine's day thinking this would be a nice treat for me. it was not so much a treat. i arrived, ready to be pampered. (yes, i know magical thinking.) instead, after examining my skin, the doctor announced, 'you have the mask of pregnancy'. she asked if i was pregnant. i said no. she asked how old i was. i said 29 and a half. she asked if i had been on birth control pills for a long time. i said i had. she said that explained it. the splotches, she said, were a skin condition that effects white and south asian women and appear during pregnancy or after having been on hormonally-based birth control for a long time without becoming pregnant. it gets worse in the sun. she said given my age and my having been on birth control for several years, this was quite normal and there was nothing to do except go off the pill and avoid the sun. she also said i could expect to have it return when and if i ever become pregnant. to be sure i understood, i clarified that this was basically my body's way of crying out for a baby, by putting its demand all over my face. she said, more or less. i said, 'happy valentine's day to me!' she offered me prescription skin-whiteners, but that felt a bit extreme. i told her i'd stop taking the pill immediately and otherwise drown my sorrows over my splotchy skin and childlessness in excessive sunscreen application. i have since worn sunscreen (in my moisturizer) on a daily basis. i have done such a thorough job of drowning these particular sorrows that i think the damn things have learned to swim! that is, they swim swiftly back to the surface of my skin at even the slightest exposure to sunlight. but no matter. melasma is hardly of serious consequence and i find my slight mustache more amusing than anything else.

***curiously i have been craving ginger incessantly since i've been here. ginger juices, fresh ginger tea, ginger at almost every meal. unsure what this means. if anything. (note to self - there is not meaning in everything. perhaps craving ginger signifies nothing more than enjoying that particular spice.)

staring down the smoke

i had a second session with dr. trauma today. totally my hot date of the week. cue tina turner: what's hot got to do, got to do with it? very little, actually. in fact, nothing. even though i was wearing red seude pumps. very hot. but of little consequence. oh and i know the lyrics really ask what love's got to do with it, but i think that love has everything to do with it. usually does. in fact, always.

i had an interesting conversation with a girlfriend last night. she asked when i had 'peaked' in my life - when i was happiest, at my best, yada, yada. i told her i couldn't accept the premise of the question and ended up answering 'now'. i really fundamentally believe that true, enduring happiness transcends outer experience and that we can only live in the present. i also feel that, even in all its messy intensity, life just keeps getting better. or at least i see it that way. that is in fact what has been most traumatic about this whole processing the fire trauma process - feeling as though i am fragile enough to be seriously shaken by external circumstances. then again, maybe i should allow that i can be strong without being superhuman. i am not perfect. anyway, this friend was able to identify when in her life she had 'peaked'. i told her i was peaking in that very moment eating hummus. then i peaked again later that night having a one song dance party by myself at home.

one song dance parties, btw, should be more widely promoted. i bet if they were incorporated more into everyday home life and office culture, we would all be much happier. when we were living in beijing, my family seemed to have an unspoken understanding that anytime van morrison's 'brown-eyed girl' came on somewhere in the flat - whether the living room or our bedroom - everyone would drop whatever they were doing, dance it out, and then resume their activities when the song was through. it was great fun. i once tried to introduce the idea to my office here, but it was not embraced with enthusiasm. in fact, there may have been a lot of confused staring involved.

speaking of staring, one of the interesting aspects of dr. trauma's approach is that he is quite focused on what i've been experiencing physically and having me do physical exercises - breathing, staring, directing my attention to bodily sensations, etc. this of course makes sense because much as we sometimes go about our lives as if we are all brains, we are bodies (and hearts and spirits)(and a lot of water). our bodies know how to heal us. we don't stress about it when we get bruised or cut, because we trust our bodies to take care of those wounds. even the scar from the burn on my thigh is slowly fading. and yet we isolate our brains so often and only stay tangled up in thoughts and plots and grief that would perhaps fade away softly like smoke if we just stopped to breathe and focus on creating space. i consistently marvel at the sense of spaciousness one can create or find simply within. similarly, i know that i already have all i need to heal from these flames - literal or otherwise - and have always had it. i said as much to dr. trauma today, but he didn't seem offended. i may go see him another time or two and engage in more guided staring, breathing, and talking through things. or i may just have a few more one song dance parties. or maybe the japanese female punk band i'm seeing this evening will sufficiently rock my world so that there's no longer any lingering smoke.

shaking the moonlight out of my hair

good morning. once again, the courtyard is mayhem. which i am observing calmly and suppressing my inner cleaner*. the skies are blue and we even saw stars last night! it was a glorious evening. i am going to first reflect upon the lessons learned last night and then put on the dance playlist i made for the party and rock out as i clean up. i love gratuitous rocking out in unexpected contexts. which brings me to a lesson - 1: when i am walking around town rocking out with my ipod, wearing sunglasses and my pink 'princess' baseball cap, i am not invisible. sometimes i labour under this illusion and sing out loud or kind of dance along. people stare. it's weird, i know. but no weirder than the 70-year-old man i saw walking down wudaoying hutong yesterday wearing black pantyhouse under plaid boxer shorts, a white tank and green trainers, holding a canary. so i think it's ok. but really i should lose the 'princess' cap. it's a bit much. ok so other lessons:

2 - i should not wear dresses that are so short i can't raise my arms if i intend to dance. i actually learned this lesson after our last party. so i wisely chose not to wear my leo-fabulous shockingly short dress that i got for this birthday. (i literally can't sit down in it. but it's really hot. as i was getting ready last night i sagely decided that dancing aside, as hostess, i may be required to bend over or reach up at various points throughout the evening. so i went with another dress. this is the kind of deep intellectual thinking that all of my impressive degrees have enabled.)

3 - in a similar vein, i am slowly accepting that i may not be able to continue to wear shockingly short ensembs all that much longer. i thought about retiring my short shorts at 31 (i have quite a collection), but couldn't quite do it. this year the thought didn't even cross my mind. i intend to keep on rocking them (and, incidentally, rocking out in public behind the relative privacy of my sunglasses) as long as i can. it'll come to an end eventually. really it's just me v. gravity at this point. but i'm pretty stubborn and intend to give gravity a good run. i'm not giving up without a fight. actually, my fondness for hot pants was incorporated into a birthday roast two dear girlfriends wrote for my 30th bday. i will share it with you here. effing funny.

A Toast to Miss Mattie J Inspired by her own Facebook Updates

How do you begin to tell the story of a dear friend,
Who amuses not just you but herself to no end?

She lives a life of glamourous insanity,
While doing her best to help out humanity

Our dear friend Mattie is smart as a whip,
While ever the icon of her own brand of hip

Neither bustier nor hot pant will be left aside,
Should MJ have the chance to wear them with pride!

And with glee we have enjoyed many nights in the city,
Busting out the glam, it still makes me giddy

For sharing the sense that moderation is overrated,
Brought on many nights when we left the boys quite frustrated

On that score of late she has had us puzzling,
Over who exactly she's recently been nuzzling

We try to decode her various Facebook updates,
And we're watchful that she not involve herself with any ingrates

She said at one point that she blames the CIA
For what, we're not sure but here's to hoping they don't keep her at bay

She is so pretty and dangerous, you see
That it's perfectly reasonable they'd want to give her the third degree

She claimed at one point that she should really know better,
But living like that would be so boring, so fettered

Mattie, it is we who promise never to forsake the colours that you bring,
For you are ever a beacon of light and joy for us, with a dash of bling

And now as you enter your 30th year,
How lucky are we that the occasion has brought us near

Life without you would be terribly dull,
It's an existence I'd, frankly, rather not mull

I look forward to all of our birthdays to come,
And all of the living yet to be done

So on the occasion of Miss Mattie's glorious birthday,
Let us raise our glasses and shout out, hooray!


*************

Mattie updates lifted directly off Facebook for the purposes of this poem:

Mattie amuses herself no end.
Mattie is living a life of glamourous insanity.
Mattie blames the CIA.
Mattie is so pretty and dangerous.
Mattie will not forsake the colours that you bring.
Mattie really should know better.
Mattie thinks moderation is overrated.

ok so i was going to post that to poke fun at myself, but have ended up just missing my friends. who know and love me well. and vice versa. so maybe i'll skip all of the silly lessons i was going to list here. about booty-shaking** and then some, and get straight to the point. i feel so blessed this birthday. this life, really. for my amazing and beautiful family and friends. and that's all that matters. and for having come through fires, literal and otherwise, this year. i've survived. and thrived. which i could not have done without said amazing and beautiful family and friends. and for which i am so humbled and grateful. i also feel especially blessed this birthday because of some recent news. i sent a message to my pregnant sister on wednesday saying i wanted a niece for my birthday (i have two gorgeous wonderful nephews!), and she found out on friday she's having a girl. and now i'm literally weeping with joy just thinking about that. (ok and a little bit of sadness that i'm so far away. what am i doing here?!?) so that means it's time to close the computer, cry in a corner for a bit, than rock out as hard as i can while i clean up all the empty champagne bottles.



*who am i kidding? i am not really concerned with cleanliness, only aesthetics. i am very meticulous, for example, about the angles of my (gold) decorative throw pillows on my bed. and the placement of art and books and such. but i find no joy in scrubbing. none at all. my mother is a cleaner. one of my sisters may be as well. [query: is this an impulse that just comes with having children? will i give birth and then suddenly be that woman who jumps at the chance to chase dust kitties from the corners when there is a lull in conversation? even as i write it, i suspect not.] my mum can't sit still if there is anything unscrubbed within her line of sight. this is so much the case that all of my sisters and i have confessed that even in our adult lives we've been lazy about cleaning our flats and just waited for her to visit to tidy up. we justified this because even if we did clean in anticipation of her visit, she would walk in and immediately seize the windex anyway. in fact, it is entirely possible that the only times my bathroom was cleaned during my three years of law school were when my mum came over. (lest you think that i am jut as filthy filthy freaknasty gross as all the hiphop i've been listening to lately, i ought to clarify that i lived a 30 minute drive from my parents during law school, so visits were regular.) but there was another point to this footnote. oh yes, i do not have an inner cleaner, but once upon a lifetime i aspired to have one. thankfully, i am now old enough to simply be comfortably with who and why i am and no longer have ridiculous aspirations like that. i also have become neater as i age. when i was a teenager i was basically a slob. i distinctly remember sitting at our living room table in beijing, filling out an informational form for university designed to help with roommate placement and there was a question about cleanliness that asked you to select from a number of options to describe yourself. i read the options aloud to my family and opined that i tick "mostly neat with the occasional mess". they would have none of it. in fact my littlest sister may have spit up milk laughing at that suggestion. they insisted i tick the box that basically said "i am a completely hopeless mess and i can't recall the last time i saw the floor next to my bed because i live in a vacuum of misunderstood creative clutter that whirls about me at all times". ok so i added the creative clutter bit. clearly i'm still defensive. i think the choice actually said "very messy". it was the right choice. i'm not sure my freshman year roommate and i ever cleaned our floor. ever. and i think many small life forms perished in our fridge during the year. but we had a good time.

**once again i didn't dance with any straight men. or at least no eligible ones. oh well.

crack open and shine

so, the required time for rainbowing was in fact rather brief. processing was swift and sweet. and so the sky ballet continues. i am this morning considering the infinite ways life cracks open and shines. always, always when you least suspect it! such is the magic of the world.

in less abstractly substantive news, i also find myself this morning at a curious style crossroads. i am wearing a skirt that belonged to a friend's grandmother. one day she wrapped it up and sent it to me via post even though at that time she lived in brooklyn and i lived in manhattan. the accompanying note said she thought it might fit me and that her grandmother had a tremendous spirit and so it might be fitting in that sense as well. she was right on both counts! it is high-waisted and tapers to a flare below the knee. there is a curious weighted ribbon which falls from the inner-front of the bodice. the weighted end of the ribbon (which feels as though it has a coin in it) dangles between my mid-upper thighs. i wonder if i am meant to squeeze it somehow to achieve a certain posture or life in my derriere. (i wonder this every time i wear this skirt, actually.) i probably ought to look this up. but instead, i'll appreciate the mystery and the way it grazes my inner thighs. ahh, the delicious complexity of being a woman and dressing! to borrow from yeats:

'To be born woman is to know --
Although they do not talk of it at school --
That we must labour to be beautiful.'

and the reply:

'It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.'

anyway, rather than grow quiet at the name of love, i shall continue. i have paired this skirt with strands of chocolate pearls and thoroughly modern shoes (an interesting choice). this felt appropriate as i dressed since i feel as though i'm on the verge of a style revolution. and then some.

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.

tomb-sweeping and touch

it's qing ming jie - tomb sweeping day - a day to go outside to enjoy the greenery of spring time and tend to the graves of departed ancestors. springtime is indeed slowly sprouting here in the northern capital - evidenced by the sweet green shoots poking their noses out of the earth in our courtyard and the sunlight that smiled us yesterday during a mellow hike on the great wall followed by a sunday afternoon celebration at a friend's countryside home in mutianyu. pic above. we went out to enjoy the not-quite greenery a day early, although we entirely neglected our tomb-sweeping obligations. it was truly just a delicious day - in so many senses. delightful company, engaging conversation, great food (cupcakes even!), impromptu song and dance, a sweeping view of the wall and the mountains, clear skies and sweet, sweet sunshine. i am not sure if it was the wine or the promise of spring that was getting us drunk. but i'll take spring (and summer) in copious amounts any day! [i recall a line from the joni mitchell song 'california' - i could drink a case of you and still be on my feet. ... i could drink a case of summer's potential and still be on my feet.]

sadly the clear skies scattered and today it is back to grey. but no matter. as i walked to catch the bus this morning, i was content. my cheeks were still glowing from yesterday's sunshine. i just felt so lucky to be in this incredible city, this complicated country, blessed with health and perspective and endless opportunities - to meet interesting people, to hike on the great wall, to eat cupcakes.* sunday's skies and sunshine scoured away the frustration of last week in wuhan and i felt refreshed. perhaps it was also having a dear friend in town this weekend. or perhaps it was conquering a fear. which i did last thursday.

after getting back from wuhan, i went for a massage. this may not sound like much, but for me it was conquering a fear of touch by a strange man. and i have been thinking about touch lately. not entirely sure why. although i was inspired after reading an article about the importance of touch and the positive effect of simple physical contact. and noticed that i have taken to doing this kind of awkward shoulder-slap when saying farewell to chinese male local partners. (we are beyond shaking hands and hugging wouldn't work. i think they are mostly baffled by the shoulder-slap. as, i confess, i am! i hadn't even realized i was doing it until one of them did it back and i discovered how strange it is.... and then caught myself doing it again with other partners two days later!)

anyway, most expats i know here love going for massage and consider it one of the better aspects of living in beijing and a nice release when you're having bad china days (or weeks as per mine in wuhan). i always politely demurred or changed subjects when massage came up because until last thursday i had never gone. a few weeks ago during a conversation with a few girlfriends, i finally confessed the reason - that my one previous experience with a male masseuse (in the US) was deeply traumatic (entirely due to my own neuroses). most of the masseuses in beijing - and apparently all of the good ones - are men. and that was enough to keep me away. mind, the trauma of my one previous experience, which was part of a recruiting trip with my former big, bad law firm, may or may not have also had something to do with having encountered a very large M & A partner whose robe didn't quite go all the way around him in the co-ed waiting room at the spa. that awkward staring hard at the floor aside, what i actually found difficult was accepting that the massage was not intimate touching. i felt so bad for the poor man assigned to knead my worries away that lovely june afternoon. his name was eric. i remember that clearly because even as i was checking at the spa's front desk and was told i would be "with eric", a small fist squeezed my heart. and held steady. as eric did his best, i became a fiery little ball of stress under his hands. every time he moved the sheet, i was a bundle of nerves. i stopped breathing. and had to use my yoga breath to make sure i was getting oxygen and to calm myself down. i began repeating the mantra "this is not intimate touching" in my head over and over. at some point i started adding "this is his job, he is a professional" to make sure i was really clear. at some point mid-way through, i thought about stopping and telling eric i was sorry, it wasn't his fault, but maybe we should spare us both further trouble and call the whole thing off. but i didn't. i wasn't capable of speech since i was too busy quietly hyperventilating and trying to breathe deeply at the same time. (inhale: this is not, exhale: intimate touching.)

i was convinced to go for a massage in china only after having been encouraged repeatedly to do so and having been informed that there is more than one layer between you and the masseuse: a nice set of pyjama pants and matching long-sleeved shirt and a blanket. no skin-to-skin contact. it was great - he tended to the tension i carry in my neck and shoulders. but this style of massage is not exactly relax; it's quite intense actually. he on blood pathways and it can be painful. for example, as he pressed a point in my lower back, i had the distinct sensation that blood and muscle was going to spurt out of the front of my thigh. but i think working through this tension must be good. and so i am going back tonight. besides, having this safe touching in my life is perhaps positive it and of itself.

i have also been thinking about touch after a friend drunkenly tried to kiss me in an alley a few weekends ago and i leapt back saying, 'i'm just not there yet'. (which is true.) and found myself ambiguously holding the hand of another friend while shopping. and noticed the shoulder-slapping thing. and realized that spooning with your cat isn't a substitute for human intimacy. the take away is that massage is all the touch i can manage at the moment.

the late afternoon light is fighting through the grey, so i may make most of this holiday and reflect on my ancestors for a moment before this evening's massage, even if i have no tombs to sweep. all of this - paying respects to the departed, basking in the sunshine and appreciating the here and now, considering connections and touch - of course recalls how quickly time flies, how fleeting life can seem if you fail to take the time to marvel in the moments, and impermanence. a teaching on impermanence my ba sent recently:

Taking impermanence truly to heart is to be slowly freed from the idea of grasping, from our flawed and destructive view of permanence, from the false passion for security on which we have built everything. Slowly it dawns on us that all the heartache we have been through from grasping at the ungraspable was, in the deepest sense, unnecessary.
At the beginning this too may be painful to accept, because it seems so unfamiliar. But as we reflect, slowly our hearts and minds go through a gradual transformation. Letting go begins to feel more natural, and becomes easier and easier.
It may take a long time for the extent of our foolishness to sink in, but the more we reflect, the more we develop the view of letting go. It is then that a complete shift takes place in our way of looking at everything.

*the only negative about the fact that perfectly cute cupcakes are now available in beijing (http://www.lollipopbakery.cn/) is that i can no longer engage in idle chatter about opening a revolutionary cupcakery. no matter. i will just need to double up my discussion of abstract business plans for a champagne / wine bar.... sadly, all my alleged 'business partner' (a girlfriend equally willing to dwell entirely in possibility / our own imaginations on this) and i have managed to do is conduct 'research trips' to 'assess the competition' and drink wine a number of beijing bars. mind, we still consider that a worthy accomplishment, living in the moment and all.

under pressure

i have just had acupuncture / acupressure done for the first time and am amazed at the spaciousness. i feel as though my spine will never be the same. and i cannot wait to go back. i went in to see about treatment for some neck and back pain. but have come out joyful and with a sense of wonder about life. i also surprised myself this evening. after shen daifu - doctor shen - did an initial assessment, she asked me if i was a afraid of needles. some brave self i did not know existed answered no. wo bu pa - i am not afraid. and so it began. with just three needles in each foot and calf and one in each hand, the muscles in my back released entirely for the first time in probably more than a decade. and then the real work began.

shen daifu is a very small, very warm woman. but incredibly strong. she spent a good hour while the needles were in standing on my back and legs and applying pressure or massaging me with her feet. it was unlike anything i have ever experienced. even when she was using her hands i was amazed that such a tiny person could produce such strength, could apply such pressure. she worked on me for two and half hours. we chatted some but during the quiet spaces i found myself thinking about pressure - about the pressure we allow others to apply to us and that which we apply to ourselves. pressure, applied properly, can push or release us to greatness, to spaciousness, or to both at once. improperly applied, it can crush, hobble, or diminish us.

once upon a lifetime i was much harder on myself that i am now. (the song "under pressure" was in fact something i would sing in my head while stretching to psyche myself up during my pre-race ritual when i was a swimmer. what does that tell you? although, to be fair, it was more about rhythm than message.) at that time, the pressure i applied to myself to be perfect was tragic and laughable. i have sometimes wondered where that pressure came from. why do we create our own pressures and what drives us to do so? doesn't the world give us enough already?

my transcendent experience with shen daifu tonight reminded me of another moment in my life when a stranger's pressure set me free. i must have been 16. a few friends from the united states had come to visit me and my family in beijing during the summer. it was a hot, sticky beijing august day and i was taking my guests to the ming tombs. about 45 minutes into the 1.5 hour drive, i started to feel incredibly nauseous. i willed it to pass. that didn't work, so i had to ask our driver to pull over. i was green and woozy by the side of a road in the beijing countryside with a car full of people relying on me to orchestrate the day. of course they were caring and sympathetic and suggesting that we simply turn back. but, this being deep in my perfectionist stage, i was putting pressure on my sick self to pull it together and continue. i recall staring up at the sun and not thinking clearly. at that moment, a chinese woman going by on a bicycle stopped and came over. she told me that she was a doctor of traditional chinese medicine and waved some sort of identification or badge before my face. she asked me a few questions, which i did my best to answer. she then proceeded to apply pressure to specific points - my temples, my inner wrists, my ankles. the waves of nausea receded, my head cleared, and i recovered completely. we thanked her profusely. i tried to offer payment, even if only in the form of the basket of fresh, ripe peaches we had packed as part of our picnic lunch. but she would accept nothing. she said seeing me recover was her payment. and then she hopped on her bicycle and rode off into the shining heat. i remembered her refusal tonight when shen daifu refused payment for the extra half hour she spent working on my impossibly knotted shoulders and neck.

shen daifu and i spoke a lot about balance this evening. the principle of balance really underlies a lot of chinese medicine. (and chinese philosophy, religions, and traditional thinking, i pointed out.) perhaps the still point we strive to reach with our pressures - both those we apply ourselves and those the world places upon us - is finding the right balance. an appropriate balance of pressures can be positive, transformative. an ill-balanced or wobbly balance of pressures can be negative, destructive. striking this balance seems a constant process.

spaciousness

the more space you cultivate in your life for beauty and joy, the more they will rush in and fill that space, overwhlem it. same is true for adventure. i have been thinking lately about making space for what matters and cultivating a sense of spaciousness within myself. (ok, confession - i am almost always thinking about this.) this weekend was expansive. both experientially and lingamentally. ;). i discovered my new favourite place in beijing. and i took a ballet class.

i almost backed out of ballet at the last minute again, but decided to bravely choose the path which would push me in new directions, loosen up some space in my mind, heart, and hips. i would like to say that beauty and joy rushed in and i was a vision in the studio. but i would be lying. pain and cramping rushed in and i was all awkward jerky movements across the floor. but no matter. i wasn't concerned with what was reflected in the mirror. my purpose was more than the mirror, or rather had nothing to do with it. my sore muscles are today still reminding me to leap. and laugh about it, no matter what happens. i am going back to class again on wednesday.*

when i went to class on saturday, i was already creatively inspired after a great friday night at beijing's best live music venue (my new favourite place). dedicated to supporting all kinds of music as long as it's independent, this platform for creativity welcomes local and international bands, screens films, throws parties, and i hope one day will let be do some political theatre.** we were there to see a brooklyn-based indie rock band, au revoir simone. (i hope that's the correct way to describe them.) they were fantastic and the energy in the crowd was warm and vivacious and daring on a cold winter night. the characters collected in that spot were interesting, and i couldn't help but wonder how we had all drifted into this darkened space in the center of this sleeping dragon of a city. the second act involved a tiny, tiny italian man with very large hair jumping up and down and incomprehensibly scream-singing as his balding friend in a blazer moved around a giant, silver inflatable rocket-penis twice his size with his name (silvio) emblazoned down the shaft in blue letters. it takes all kinds. and somehow there is space for all of us.

in thinking about both inner and outer spaciousness, i have also been thinking about the times of the day in which to cultivate them. i did yoga this morning. i of course spent some moments hesitating about whether to do it or not. i have not fully actualized my discipline as freedom concept. (or is it discipline as a means to a greater sense of spaciousness, which is in and of itself freeing?) while in that statis, i noticed the calmness of the early morning. and that light. i love the early morning light. and the quiet. the possibility. i'm grateful for those early morning moments, even when i forget to appreciate them and am caught up arguing with myself about whether or not to practice yoga. i've always liked the time before dawn because there's no one around to remind me who i'm supposed to be, so it's easier to remember who i am. there is such spaciousness there.

in less uplifting news, there was a(nother) horrific mining accident in china this weekend. i've been reading lately about the government's suppression of the modern labour movement in china (ironic for the state that was meant to establish a workers' paradise). that movement was lead by coal miners. and they were crushed, just as brutally as they regularly are in the mines because both (corrupt) state-owned and (corrupt) privately-owned mining companies find it more lucrative to pay a pittance to dead miners' families than to invest in and implement safety standards and adequate equipment. it infuriates me and just makes certain spaces in my heart ache. i have been feeling that way a great deal lately. i cannot help but notice, and want to call attention to, the dark side of china's dazzling economic rise. i want to make more space for it in the common china discourse somehow.


*the most profound learning point of the first class was re-discovering that there are certain bum muscles you only use in ballet. that and the truth of the statement 'if you don't move it, you lose it'.

**in another exciting development this weekend i have finally settled on my next writing project! and (unsurprisingly) it hit me with the subtlety of a hurricane. very excited about seeing where this will lead.