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June 15 Appreciating Depreciation Living abroad is a transaction of pros and cons. At the end
of the end of the day (or more literally, visa year) I boil it down to an algebraic equation of worth. To sum up the negatives, there’s the distance, the differences, the
disorientation, the endless challenges. Of course, this is also a list of
reverse positives. So, in zenlike fashion, the bottom line cancels out the formula altogether, adding in the bonus luxury of it being a choice, yielding an
invaluable life experience.
When I first chose to move 2,500 miles from home I promised my mother I’d be back at least once a year. Since that time I’ve lived in a few more places, making a big jump across the world. I’ve managed to keep my original promise. Because no matter how many phone calls you make or emails you write or any of the advancements of technology you may use, there’s never anything like being in the actual presence of the ones you love.
Still, sticking to that promise has always been a financial struggle for me; first as a poor student, and more recently as a poor dreamer. One year it took 18 months to get back for a visit, last year it took 15. As it stands now I’m still in a financial red hole from keeping my last promise loyally, making the probability of me sticking to it this year a lot less likely at this point. As much as I’m a firm believer that money can’t buy love or stand in its way, I know, realistically speaking, it certainly does support it.
All my life I watched my mother struggle to support me as a single parent - working 2 jobs, losing sleep and quality of life between midnight shifts and 7 day work weeks. Presently she’s putting off retirement to help pay off my student loans. She’s never failed to provide; I always had a roof over my head, well-balanced meals, quality health care, clothes on my back, after-school activities, with all the love she had and energy she had left. If there’s one thing my mother isn’t, it’s selfish. She’s immensely full of passion, zeal, and strength. I’ll forever be indebted to this woman for teaching me to give my all and everything.
May 19 All About the Busy-nessWhen I first started studying Chinese at San Francisco State University - (oh yes, don't you know, SF is a state of its own) - one of our 2 instructors was Beijing-ren. And she was a bit of a social metaphysicist. She really grabbed the fundamental linguistics of the language and built all of our lessons based on the theory that "learning another language was like opening a door to another world". She was an awesome guide; the first to explain the contemporary use of "comrade" and relate the 麼
in 什麼 (we were learning traditional characters) to 大麻. Yes, I feel fortunate to have attended an academic institute that was also one of the first Electric Koolaid Acid Test sites.
And from that merry note of non sequitur...one of my favorite parts of learning Chinese (I haven't studied the writing so strictly since those first 600 characters) was entering the culture so deeply and connecting to the basic existential philosophy of the place where I am now. The building blocks of this preserved language hold the oriental secrets and keys to life. I still think it would do me a world of good to give up everything for awhile - just 6 months at least - and study Chinese.
Going on what I've learned already, there is one word that comes to mind: 忙 (busy). We were taught to associate it with the character for heart + death. In essence, busy = a dead heart. And I can see how the disintegration of my time and energy has proven this linguistic element. At times, when I can't catch up to the other side of the world or relax, read or write, cook, ride my bike, pay attention to the here and now, or enjoy myself and other people...I realize it's because my heart's dead; my spirit is exhausted.
Being busy isn't really about fullness, it's inevitable emptiness.
Lately I've been focused on keeping an open heart; that's what my yoga teacher always tells me to do. I've quit my night job and I'm going back to my day jobs; refining life down to the basics; practicing the art of saying no; still searching for the positive in every situation... April 10 i am weOf course the story is different here. And It’s hard to say when it started exactly. It depends how and what you’re counting. If we’re talking mere chronology here, then I suppose the story goes back to the beginning of human existence on this planet. That’s a mighty long time, and most like you do not have the patience or the time yourself to sit through such a story. It would take years to tell. Years!
And who has years to follow a story? Who can take time out to suspend reality and imagine the impossible? Well, I can, for one. That’s how I live my life, as a matter of fact; completely entrenched in a fictional storybookland of my own prescription. And of course, that’s the tale I have to tell. My Experience and None other.
Here it goes:
I was born with the sun in my mouth on a moist August evening, in the Chinese year of the dragon. Later in my life I became slightly obsessive about dates and tracking the patterns of the stars and moon’s rotations, and eventually I began to draw conclusions….i spent a large part of my teenage years as an aspiring astrologer, and later in life I discovered why that was.
That’s how chronology works in terms of age and knowledge. You realize much later than you experience, you understand much more at a distance than at the focal point. Now, finally, I have the luxury of traveling back and forth between the period of scenes in my life. Like a photo album, I go flipping through the pages, searching for the peaks and aching all over again through the lows. My life storybook is written in the pattern of a countryside landscape. It is sunny and bright, but changes into something sinking within the forest and swamp covered.
From the essence of beauty to the finite quality of ugliness, I have traveled through it all, just in my short period of years. March 21 Equinox, Regrets & RealizationsIf anyone can say they have no regrets in life, I'd seriously question their level of consciousness.
But definitely not their state of contentment.
(After all, ignorance is bliss.)
My school of thought is that life is full of regrets.
Now please prepare for me to dish-out some of my signature "Deep Thoughts" and spiritual mental masturbation matieral towards this one:
I like to think that I can learn from my regrets, that they are the source of my weakness and my strength.
Because when I think about it, I've been living with regrets for practically my whole life. Depressing but true, I'm full of them. There's a lot I've held back, made more difficult than it needed to be, not paid attention to, ignored, turned away from, and have done or said badly.
Of course, I try to cut myself slack. Because there's only so much I can be capable of or aware of. Regrets are just part of the human condition, I think.
'Cuz nobody's perfect, not even me. People are just people. We're all just products of our environment; products of our DNA.
And I like to think that people change like the seasons.
We wax and wane like the moon.
We mutate.
I like to think we all have a chance at rebirth, renewal, evolution.
February 18 My Manifesto on 5 Years Living AbroadFive years ago, February 18th, I packed up my carefully selected sacred possessions (leaving a storage closet full of the rest in Fremont, California) and moved to a place far, far away. In the same galaxy, on the same planet, but completely across the world.
I landed on February 19th, 9 pm, Beijing time. My adventure on the other side of the globe was only supposed to last 1 year. But as it’s come to being, I’m now celebrating my 5 year Chinanniversary. Who knew? Well, it seemed like a lot of my homies in the bay did know it might last longer than 365 days. How did they know? I don’t know.
Anyway, life isn’t about knowing, is it? It’s about finding out. Call me a Buddhist, but I honestly believe we are all just here to fulfill our karmic duties. And as I trace my path from the moment of birth, I can see how where I’ve ended up is exactly where I always wanted to be but never knew just how and where it would actually be. I was just going along with the flow. (again, call me a Buddhist, although you could say I came to China in search of the Tao).
Don’t get me wrong – I’ve spent most of my life struggling. Wrestling. Fighting. Screaming. Crying. Dying. Lying. Believing. Working. Receiving. Dreaming. And hoping.
....Ah, hope. According to Wikipedia, hope is “the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best”; “Hope was personified in Greek mythology as Elpis. When Pandora opened Pandora's Box, she let out all the evils except one: hope. Apparently, the Greeks considered hope to be as dangerous as all the world's evils.
Nietzsche said that hope “is the most evil of evils because it prolongs man’s torment”
I came to China wishing to join a utopian conspiracy, a revolution of hope. Because despite the ancients and the postmoderns, I haven't experienced hope to be that terrible of a thing. Powerful maybe, but not necessarily evil.
I’m just grateful my wish came true....
Viva Beijing! La vie en boheme.
Happy birthday to me.
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