Saturday Morning Burst of Life Essence

I am on my way to aikido practice on Saturday morning, a cup of Yiren (薏仁; Coix Seed) milk in my hand. I walk into campus and toward the big university gymnasium. There is a beautiful lawn with benches on campus, a sort of small park, bordering the track in front of the gym. I like to go there to sit and relax sometimes after class.

Today I sit on one of the benches, eating my breakfast, an egg sandwich and my Yiren milk, and watch a father and his son kick a soccer ball around. The boy must be about eight, the dad in his mid-thirties. The boy's sister is there, chasing her brother, laughing and smiling, making her eyes become small slits, like the ones we cut into the light brown construction paper we used in elementary school.

The girl leaves her brother and approaches the small garden on the left side of the lawn. She is drawn to a plant the looks like a fern. She looks at it and then begins purposefully pulling down the spines on the plants with one hand, so that in the other hand, she is able to collect the small drop-like leaves.

A part of me wants to tell her to leave the plant alone. I want her to have some kind of ecological consciousness, you know? But then I see that look in her eyes. I realize I need to pay attention.

She then runs towards her brother, who has just kicked the ball to his dad. She is starting to scream, and the closer she gets, the louder and more high-pitched her voice becomes. She makes a final dash in the direction of her brother, and timed with her final scream, releases the little leaves on him and runs away, giggling.

Savoring Each Moment

You meet lots of people in your daily life. Maybe you go out and get a cup of tea and some cheesecake, or dinner with a few that you are attracted to, or who are interested in you (hopefully both!). Meeting a new person is like reading a new book. Each person has pages and pages of history, ideas, dreams. I am curious! And of course, some books grab us. Some don't.

Or sometimes, a book seems interesting and everyone recommends it to you, but you can't get into it! In that case, I say, don't force it.

And then, if we're single, we meet someone, and it feels just like every other date. We're having fun, talking about her sister or my undergrad years on the East coast. We go home, and we are taken by surprise. 欸, I am still thinking about her!

What a gift when this happens.

We thought it was just another date, but seemingly out of the blue, we feel something bigger than ourselves happening. Maybe that little angel-boy with the bow and arrow and has been playing near us today and accidentally shot us, right in the heart!

And the next day, we are on a bus. And we still have that feeling in our hearts.

It is called love. Maybe you could call it grace. Life is mysterious in that way, sneaking up on us.

These days, I am grateful just to feel this feeling. I have no idea whether anything will happen with this person I have met. I certainly would welcome it, but that is the subject of another blog entry.

Today I am grateful for this simple feeling. I know that we all have this love inside of our hearts. The masters say that it is always there, that is doesn't come from another person.

I am happy to be reminded of this, grateful that somehow, another person has teased it out of me. Today, it is here and I savor it. Surely, it will not last, but today, I savor each moment.

台北的676號公車

下班一後
我要回家.

在羅斯福路
我走一走,
五分鐘以後
到了公館,
看到一萬
小朋友
戴著他們的
非常可愛的mp3.

236號 在哪裡?
就是我的車子.
236號,雖然班很多
可是總是都很擠.

今天沒看到它.
只有676號.

我已經四個月了坐236號,
只看到676號有一次.
在路表上寫得「政大」,
跟236號一樣.

我還站著在公車站
看到禿頭的司機.
他的牙齒沾上了槟榔,
紅紅的.

有人不知道676號去哪裡.
他們有一點糊塗,不想上車.
他們可能不相信路表.

不要冒險.

所以禿頭的槟榔司機
叫我們:「一樣的啦!」

是我第一次
聽到一位司機說服乘客上車!

司機微笑向我,
要我上車,
要我相信他.

我上車.
人不多,所以很舒服.

我們離開公館
每一站
司機再叫:「一樣的啦!」
我非笑不可!

三十分鐘以後
我終於下車回家,
很有閒情逸致.

Music Explorations

Tonight, I'm on vacation. I'm in my room, listening to music. I'm not learning Chinese. There are no kids making funny faces at me in cafes, and no old ladies on the MRT peeking at my out of the corner of their eyes. No bopomofo tonight.

I found a great website called LastFM (www.last.fm). You type in your favorite artist and it plays similar artists. Oh my, I am in heaven. My first two artists tonight are Beck and David Darling. I feel like I've just jumped into warm blue water. I'm naked and there's no one here watching me.

Swimming free, there's nothing to learn, no future, no schedule, just pleasure and creativity. Make a date with yourself and check it out. (Trust me, I get no commission.)

Sex Month at the Bookstore

I like to spend time in Taipei's best bookstore, Eslite (誠品). I sit in the cafe several days a week, mostly studying Chinese, sometimes reading for fun.

The other day, I went to use their bathroom, and I notice above each urinal is a small colored placard. When I get closer, I realize that these are advertisements for books. Lo and behold, December is Sex Month at Eslite. All books on sex are discounted, and each little sign gives a suggestion for a book. While I am relieving myself, I see that "The Joy of Oral Sex" is discounted.

After I zip up, I check out the other signs. One is called "Position a the Day". There is another advertisement below the mirror as I wash my hands. There is a picture of a girl and guy in a stall attempting to do the nasty, a guy by himself grabbing his crotch, a girl by herself grabbing her crotch. They are all, of course, reading sex books that you can buy, discounted this month, at Eslite.

Yet again, I am reminded that I am not living in the States. Although people in the States are fairly open about sex, just place these types of photos in your large chain bookstore and watch the hordes of church-going Americans begin to protest.

Taiwan doesn't have America's puritans, but "sexually open" is not the way most foreigners here would use to describe Taiwanese culture. Perhaps what's happening is that a few Taiwanese troublemakers are trying to give the culture a push and see what happens. Perhaps the folks peeing at Eslite who don't like the little advertisements deal with their disgust in other ways. Maybe they talk about it at dinner instead of rushing to a protest with a pitchfork in hand.

誠語好用啊!

九點晚上,我在圖書館念中文書,不要繼續,要回家.我把東西放在我書包裡,以後就走路上山回家去.

走路一定要過高闕先生的茶藝館.如果他在,我也得問他好.他是我的好朋友.今天晚上沒有客人,他請我跟他泡個茶.我們喝一種有木頭的味道的雲南茶.

高闕先生的朋友忽然進來,跟我們一起坐.他看到我,問老闆"他要買茶嗎?"以為我聽不懂.老闆笑起來了說,"不,他喝茶."我覺得這個人並不爽.看起來有一點麻煩.他可能不喜歡布希,以為我是支持布希的美國人.

我們三個談一談.十分鐘以後我得走了,要寫完功課.我告訴他們我的老師很嚴格,作業非常多."嚴師出高徒,"我說.

我們的並不爽的朋友的表情忽然改變了.他點頭,說"欸,你說的對."他們兩個人跟我站起來,陪我出門."再見"我對高闕先生說."再見"我對我新朋友說.

Taiwanese Hospitality

At aikido, my friend, a sophomore, is always helpful--she is the secretary for our club, collecting money and making announcements (in Chinese!). She is minoring in English, and her English is pretty good. I see her on campus, and say hi. But I don't remember her name.

So, I start calling her Beth in my mind. For some reason, every time I see her, the name Beth comes to my mind. Finally, I ask her her name. She says her English name is Katrina.

"Katrina?" I respond. I tell her that in the States, if your name is Katrina, there is a 91% chance that your hair is blonde, an 98% chance you are Christian, and a 72% chance you are a cheerleader. I am feeling bold, so I tell her my honest thought: "It really doesn't fit you." After all, my friend is Taiwanese.

"Really?" she responds. I tell her that for some reason, I always think her name is Beth.

If you know Taiwanese people, you know that they sometimes change their English names often. "Oh, that's fine. Call me Beth when you see me," she says.

Oh my, I love Taiwan.

栗子 Roasting on an Open Fire

"Do not waste your life" -The Buddha

It's Christmas in Taipei.

Thursday, I walk along Jilong Rd., and a bus passes me. The skinny, dark-skinned driver, a youngish dark-skinned Taiwanese guy with large metal-rimmed glasses, is dressed in a full Santa Claus costume. Today, I walk past a beef noodle stand and see an old Taiwanese guy with one of those red Christmas hats.

In most of the chain cafes, department stores, and some of the retail chains, Christmas songs play. Today, as I walked home over the bridge on Zhinan Rd., I heard some familiar words in my head: "So be good for goodness sake."

My Taiwanese friend tells me that she likes Christmas better than Chinese New Year. On Chinese New Year, everyone stays home, eats, and plays mahjong 'til the wee hours of the night. What a waste of time, she tells me. But on Christmas, everyone goes out, eats, drinks, and is merry. Taipei is hustling and bustling.

Not many people here are Christian, and people aren't really buying gifts for each other. But people like it and get into the spirit. My friend says that she likes the spirit of love.

I tell her that Christmas is different in the States. My sense is that Christmas in the States is all about buying and giving gifts. Retail stores do a third of their business during Christmas season. In other words, Christmas is just a part of the big capitalist wheel. There are probably lots of fundementalist Christians who would agree with me. They want Santa out of Christmas. They want that guy who talked about love and forgiveness back in the picture. I think if I were Christian, I would feel the same.

What does giving lots of gifts have to do with love? I think a better gift for children is to give them more time, more love, to have more patience with them, and to teach them about how to become good people. I don't see how giving your kid a transformer is going to teach him about love. (Actually, give kids love, and watch them transform. That's more like it.)

I tell my Taiwanese friend that in the States, all year long, people are working hard. They have no time to think about their lives. Then Christmas arrives, and they can take a week or two off to be with family and friends. Do they take this time to examine their lives? Am I living the life that I want to be living? What do I need to change? How are my relationships? What about my job?

My impression is that not many people are doing this. My impression, however, is that lots of people are eating a lot, drinking a lot, and watching a hell of lot of TV. I don't blame people for this. You're part of a big fucking capitalist machine, and you need a break.

But after all that food, drink, and TV, we all go back to work for another year. The capitalist machine keeps turning, and if you're not careful, your life goes by, just like that.

理髮廳太太的先生

大學附近有家理髮廳.
理個頭髮只要兩百塊.
每次我去剪頭髮,
理髮廳太太的先生
總是躺在我隔壁的椅子
看著電視,
有時到外面抽煙.

他的太太總是很有善.
理髮的技術也不錯,
其實她很拿手.
排隊的人也很多.

一位父親帶著
小帥哥子來理髮,
以後就輪到我.
"好可愛的小朋友,"我對她說.
"他也很聰明,跟你一樣"她回答.

理髮先生回來,
又躺回坐椅,看電視,
然後睡覺.

剪完了以後,我回校園,笑著.

跟發生在很九一前的一個日本禪故事一樣,
我終於找到心中理想的老師.

The Haircutter's Husband

Near my university
there's a barbershop.
You can get your hair cut there
for about six bucks.

Everytime I go there,
the haircutter's husband
is always lying down
on the barbershop chair next to me,
watching television.
Sometimes he goes out to smoke a cigarette.

His wife is always very friendly
And her haircuts aren't half-bad either.
Actually, she does a pretty good job,
and people are always lined up waiting.

A father brings his handsome boy in
for a haircut, and then it's my turn.

"What a cute kid," I tell the haircutter as she starts to cut.
"He's also quite smart, just like you, I'm sure," she replies.

Her husband returns, lies back down on his chair,
watches the news, and then falls asleep.

After my haircut is done,
I head back to campus, smiling.

Just like in the old Zen stories,
I've finally found my teacher.

(written by: Ron Elkayam; translation from the Chinese by: Ron Elkayam; typist: Ron Elkayam; computer consultant: Ron Elkayam; Additional research by: Ron Elkayam; Proofreading by: the amazing Jen-Shun Chen, doctoral candidate, department of Philosophy and Haircuts, NCCU)

A Piece of the Action

My friend Ted is selling all his belongings and moving to India. After you reach enlightenment, Ted, can I get a piece of the action. I mean, let ...

下午詩

我上個禮拜在台北101觀光.出們就看到那裡的很美的藝術水泉.一個警惕在那裡站著看著水跳.我看到他的臉色--他好橡在百日夢,看著地面.他的臉色看起來很難過.他有什麼風波? 他作天跟他的太太吵架嗎?他的老闆又罵他嗎?

我覺得每天每個人都在心裡面有一首詩.你今天的關於什麼?

我是一位很有名的畫家

我們的學期剛念玩了,所以我十天放假.當然,我有別的事.但這十天我不需要背中文字,也不需要學中文的句型!

星期四我買了一盒水彩顏料.我每天都在咖啡店畫畫.生意人穿梭其中.有的注意我做什麼.他們覺得怎麼樣?不知道他們要不要畫一張很漂亮的畫.孩字們都好好奇.他們一定想要跟我一起畫畫.

如果你下個禮拜在咖啡店看到一個外國人在畫畫,那一定是我.放心!紙我有很多,你可以參加.

The Dalai Lama Smokes Camels

I say to you, you are absolutely free, unconditionally free. Don't avoid the responsibility; avoiding it is not going to help. The sooner you accept it the better, because immediately you can start creating yourself. And the moment you create yourself, great joy arises, and when you have completed yourself, the way you wanted to, there is immense contentment, just as when the painter finishes his painting, the last touch, and a great contentment arises in his heart.

Osho, Love, Freedom, Aloneness

I am relaxing on the mountain. It is approaching dusk. There is always magic when the day transforms, or when the land does, like when you are backpacking in Yosemite.

My first quarter of Chinese is finished! So, I get a ten day break. During this time, I will not do three hours of Chinese homework a day. I will not memorize any characters. I will not carry flashcards. Life has its cycles, and am I glad that I have just entered a "resting" one.

I think all of life's answers can be found when we rest. Actually, perhaps there are no answers! Perhaps the questions disappear.

I know that in the area of health, most of people's problems develop because they simply don't stop. They work jobs they don't like, maintain relationships that are toxic, and use alcohol, caffeine, cigarettes, and drugs to keep themselves afloat. There are no elegant answers. The elegant answer is to rest.

When we relax, we can see the answers that are right in front of us. There are clues all around, if we keep our eyes open.

A while back, I bumped into my two closest friends within a day of hearing from them, in totally unexpected places. Then, the other day, I bump into another friend of mine. This is in the Taipei MRT (subway), and not on campus. I keep bumping into another friend, on buses and other places.

What is the message? Can we listen to the messages that reality has for us? Or are we like little children, putting our fingers in our ears and yelling "laaaa-laaa-laaaa-laaa-laaaaa!" at the top of our lungs?

Despite knowing this, I am guilty of too much running around. Yes, I admit it. I have a dream, and until win the lottery, I'll need to work hard to achieve these lofty goals of mine. Maybe the Dalai Lama has the same problem as you and me. Maybe he takes cigarette breaks with his assistants after talks on World Peace.

魔術補習班

你們知道嗎,我在台北開了一所魔術補習班?台灣的父母都非常喜歡逋習班,還有每個孩子都喜歡魔術,所以生意真好,知名度也不錯.

最近在世界上,魔術流行起來.就是Harry Potter的影響.謝謝你,Harry Potter! 我們的逋習班叫做"大安森林超自然魔術補習班",在台北的大安森林公園的旁邊.

我們的學校有五樓:

第一樓我們教怎麼飛.這系的學生不多,因為一學會怎麼飛,都飛出來.我聽說大部分飛道美國.

第二樓,我們教怎麼把兔子從帽子中拿出來.現在,有一些兔子申請上這堂課因為牠們要學怎麼把人從帽子拿出來.我覺得牠們並不爽.

第三樓,我們的學生學怎麼用意念移動東西.第一課以後,他們都會移動鉛筆.六個月以後,他們很會用魔術整理他們的房間.

對不起,我們沒有四樓因為方東很迷信.

五樓,我們教怎麼把女生切一半.學生也可以學怎麼切男生.不要著急!切人不用刀,但有時有一點複雜--上個禮拜我們在教厔發現些腿和手臂,不知道是誰的....

今年三千個孩子申請了,但只錄取了三百個.競爭真的很激烈!一般的台灣的孩子不喜歡逋習,但都很喜歡我們的補習班.

可能三年以後,我們會辦大學,因為台灣的魔術師不多.我希望不久以後,台灣的聯考會包括魔術.我覺得台灣的孩子的壓力很大.我認為他們需要些魔術.

"You Have to be Realistic"

I've been thinking about who people admire in this world. If you ask most Americans who they most admire, what would their answers be?

Bill Gates? Donald Trump? Michael Jordan? Brad Pitt? Oprah? Britney Spears? I think about the state of American society, and unfortunately, I believe there would be quite a few who would answer (ouch!) George Dubya. Scary.

Maybe people would say Mother Theresa or Martin Luther King, Jr. or Einstein.

Alas, I think my first suggestions above would be most accurate. Sure, to get points, people might say Einstein, but most people on the street are thinking along the lines of Bill Gates.

We take this for granted, but the other day, I sat down and really thought about it and questioned it.

You know, it says a lot about the world we live in. The "role models" who people admire most are not only smart, but are cunning warriors. Some have cheated, lied, and stolen, but they have been able to keep their reputation intact.

"Good for them," most people think.

Michael Lerner, a Rabbi and social activist based in the Bay Area says that the opposite of "goodness" is not "evil". It's what he calls "cynical realism". You know, when your old friend calls you up and says he voted for Bush because "you have to be realistic." Or when the big CEO decides to mow down the forest because, "you have to be realistic."

It reminds me of one of my favorite movies, Contact, starring Jodie Foster. U.S. scientists have received instructions to build a space traveling machine, and everyone assumes that Jodie Foster, who is playing the scientist who first decoded the instructions, will be the first person to use the machine.

But, she finds out that her boss is taking credit for her discovery and will be the one traveling across the galaxies. In a heartwrenching scene, he takes her aside and admits to her that he knows this is wrong, but that this is the world we live in. This is called cynical realism.

(For those of you who want to see the movie, don't read what follows, because it will spoil the movie for you!)

Of course, some terrorist blows up the machine (and her boss) once it is built, but in secret, another machine has been built, in Japan, and Jodie Foster gets her shot to live her lifelong dream to visit other civilizations across space, and is able to experience something incredible.

So, brothers and sisters, here is to the death of this brand of realism! I'm not saying to give up your day jobs (although I certainly support that), but don't ever give up your dreams. Believe in goodness and joy, and follow your heart, despite what others (and mainstream culture) tell you.

Visit from an Angel

On Monday, I was working at the clinic where I am interning at Gongguan (公館), filling herb prescriptions from behind the front counter. A man comes in with his seven year-old daughter. He is holding her hands and she is slowly walking. There are braces on her legs. The doctor asks some other interns to help her walk. As I weigh the herbs and place them on the square pieces of paper on the counter, I watch.

I can't help but notice her face. It is radiant. There is something otherworldly about it. She has a big smile and her eyes are beaming. She takes her steps slowly, exactly as a nine-month old toddler would. With each step, her smile widens and she looks up and to the side, as if she is looking at the other world.

Someone tells me that Doctor Lee wants me to approach him. I walk over to his desk and he hands me a textbook he has written on treating neurological disorders. He says to me in Chinese, "chapter 14". Luckily for me, the book includes an English translation by his former student (and my friend) Daniel, who is now back in the States teaching.

The title of the chapter is "Brain Injury Due to Asphyxiation by Carbon Monoxide". I skim through it, hand it back to the doctor, and then spend some time with this angelic little girl. It is a gift to be in her presence. When I see her walk, I see wonder. I see joy. Who knows what is going on inside of her head?

Her father, in his late 40s, is there encouraging her and asking her questions. He asks her if she can walk, and she says, in Chinese, "can." I wonder how he has changed as a person since his daughter came into his life. What did he feel after her injury? What kind of effort has his daughter's condition required of him and his family?

I think about how life is filled with intense wonder and terrible, terrible pain, and how resilient we are, and how, somehow, we get through it all and are able to experience incredible beauty.

Strange Weather

The weather has been strange lately. The other day, the morning was sunny and bright, and then a few hours later, it started pouring down rain. And then the afternoon was overcast and I actually liked the freshness and moistness in the air. The light was muted, diffuse, and everything looked clearer.

Yesterday, I woke up with a pain in my heart. I didn't know exactly what it was about, but I couldn't mind it much. As usual, I needed to get ready, hurriedly, for my eight-o'clock class.

The pain is still there as I take a quick shower and then eat a tangerine for breakfast that I bought at one of the fruit stands on Bao Yi Street in Muzha. I steep some wulong tea and get dressed. I will be down the steps to the bus stop in a few moments.

Despite the feeling, which I realize is a little sadness, I feel some excitement. It's a special day. My friend Michael, also an acupuncturist who has lived in Taiwan (now based in Seattle, though), is visiting, and we have plans to eat lunch and go to a teahouse. It feels like I'll be taking a little vacation, if only for an afternoon.

At noon, I walk out to the school's main gate, and Michael is there waiting on his scooter. We take a walk on campus and end up at a secret pond. No one is around, only a few fish, who jump when they hear us approaching the pond. We find a small stone bench, and catch up. I could share with you what similar magic we have discovered living in Taiwan, but words wouldn't be enough, so now only the dragonflies know.

We have some lunch and then Michael takes me up to Maokong, which is famous for its tea plantations, about ten minutes up the mountain from my school, for an afternoon of sublime tea drinking. He has a friend who is a famous tea master, the laoban at the Iron Crow (Wu Tie) Teahouse.

We walk down the steps into the garden, where Zhou Xiansheng and his wife greet us. They invite us to sit a small, low wooden table facing out to his garden, and Zhou Xiansheng brings out the tools of his trade: a hot water pot, some clay pots, teacups, a bamboo scoop. And of course, he takes out the varieties of tea he wants to steep for us today.

Last year, Michael brought some of this tea back to the States and his friends have begged him to go back and get some more. He also needs some for himself and his patients. He often shares a cup of tea with them while taking their pulse. I'll bet you they are probably already getting better by the time they've had their first sip.

As Zhou Xiansheng pours us tea, I look out at the wide expanse of green. It is quite beautiful. If you live in Taiwan and you haven't been up here, well, you're missing a lot.

There is still something rough lodged in my heart, but my time hanging out with Michael and this warm welcome at the teahouse have softened its edges.

As we let the tea work its wonders on us, the afternoon seems to pass quickly, as if I am in a dream. We share insights, mostly about the differences between Western and Eastern thinking. Zhou Xiansheng knows how much we love his tea, and his culture as well, and as we share this time together, I can feel how these moments, which turn into fine memories, are the jewels which adorn the chain of our lives.

Zhou Xiansheng surprises us. He tells us that he and his wife were just married last week! Out come the wedding albums and even more warmth radiates from the loving couple. Zhou informs us he is 48. His wife is probably around 40, and she is six months pregnant!

It is clear how much in love they both are, and there is an air of contentedness about them. I think about what each of them must have gone through before they found each other, and how happy they are to have found each other, and how they share what looks to me like incredible joy.

Zhou Xiansheng, standing on the wooden deck where we are sitting, pulls out a flute and starts to play to the birds and the trees, his audience. He rejoins us with a bag of twelve year-old Jing Xuan Alishan Wulong tea. We drink the last few rounds of tea. The afternoon sun goes down, and it's starting to get chilly.

I don't want to leave, but I have aikido class soon. We say our goodbyes and Michael and I hop back onto his scooter and head back to the university.

After aikido, I head home, back up the mountain, and discover I'm not tired at all. Or rather, I'm tired, but I can't go to sleep. All that tea has gotten me a little wired. If I were a true Chinese boy, I would be sleeping like a baby now, but I didn't start drinking tea as a toddler like they do here, and I know I'm not going to get to sleep for a while. So, instead of fighting it, I pull out a pad of paper and start writing a composition that is due on Friday.

The composition is done. The roosters that live in back of my taofong are crowing and I look at my watch--it's approaching five. It's a landmark, my first time this year in Taiwan, as they say in Chinese, "driving the night car" (or as we say, "burning the midnight oil").

There is something incredibly peaceful about it. In these early morning hours, the chaos of life fades, our personal stories get blurry, and for me at least, a certain peace descends.

I get to sleep finally and wake up this morning at eight. My class starts in ten minutes and I have a test. I am definitely going to be late for it, but in the larger scheme of things, that's just fine. I suppose the peace of the early morning is still prominent.

In the afternoon, I have a plan with another friend, near the Taipei 101 Building, and after lunch, I get on a bus that will take me there. I am listening to Coldplay on my MP3 player:

Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And all the things that you do.

I get off the bus and look up at the tallest building in the world. Some people don't like it, but I think it is quite beautiful. Taipei's convention center is nearby, and if you want to see foreigners, this is the place to be. Computer salesmen from Sydney and Hamburg walk around with plastic nametags around their necks. I doubt any of them speak Chinese.

I still have some time, and so I find a stone slab bench, removed from the street at an isolated corner of the immense building. Facing me is a display for some designer boutique. I look up at the sky and realize that it's been a while since I've looked up at that wide blue emptiness that is always there. It's good to lie down. Coldplay is still playing:

And we live in a beautiful world,
yeah we do yeah we do,
We live in a beautiful world.

I lie there, looking up at the sky. Suddenly, something in my heart breaks open, and tears start streaming down my face.

I listen to another song, and get up, walking down the street toward city hall. Taiwanese businesspeople walk by me and try not to make eye contact, but I smile and sometimes they smile back.

Aikido Belt Test

Aikido class, as usual, is nourishing. All that aikido I did in my twenties in San Francisco, it has all been stored in my body and I haven't lost it. Bob Nadeau, my teacher, didn't teach us much technique--he just wanted to understand the essence of aikido. Here in Taiwan, they focus more on technique, which I like. I can focus more on the technique while I practice what Bob taught me back in California.

As in the States, we aikidoka are all brothers and sisters, and there is a palpable feeling of warmth among us. After class, I find out I passed my belt test on Saturday. I am now 3rd kyu (you start at 6th kyu), and will have another two tests before I test for black belt. I'll get a nice fresh green belt on Saturday.

I have been a hardcore test taker (as my friends in California know well) for the past five years, having just graduated from Chinese Medicine school and gotten my license to practice. But somehow, I don't remember experiencing as much joy as I do now about having "passed" this test. It's not about "passing" at all. I've missed aikido, and I'm practicing it again in a serious way.

It's a homecoming.

Some Things I Saw Today...

A beautiful big purple orchid in the foyer of my apartment building.

A Taiwanese girl and her boyfriend, across from me at the table where I am studying. She lays out all her accounting textbooks and starts studying. It looks like he is there just to escort her. He keeps showing her affection, putting his hand on her shoulder and kissing her head. But she pushes him away. She doesn't look at him. He is obviously disturbing her. He gets up and leaves, looking a little sad.

A young couple sitting in front of the library. They are American students who study with me at the Chinese Center. I ask them what they are up to and they tell me they are getting ready to take a bus to the teahouses in Muzha. They don't know which bus, so I tell them. It looks like they are in love.

An unopened bottle of oolong tea in my backpack, given to me yesterday on campus. There was some kind of fair for prospective students and they were giving all kinds of free stuff. I also got a nice indigo water bottle, which will replace my other one which is getting pretty moldy. I figure I need to give away the tea because I won't drink it and it is also adding weight to my already heavy backpack. On the bridge to Muzha, an older couple is walking toward me, and the man eyes the drink. "Would you like some tea?" I ask in Chinese. He smiles and me and takes it, thanking me.

A children's bookstore. I walk by and something tells me to go in. I see there are school supplies in the back and I pick up some flashcards. You always need flashcards if you are studying Chinese. There are three racks in the middle of the store, and one side of one of the racks is full of "Doraemon"-related products. Everyone loves Doraemon ("22nd Century Cat-like Robot"). A young girl who works at the store walks up to me and says in almost perfect English, "Can I help you find anything?" I tell her I am looking for gifts for some friends. We talk and then I decide to buy some Doraemon pens. I will give them to some friends this week. If you want one, just ask me.

I am walking up the mountain to go home and I see Mr. Gaoque hosing down the front of his teahouse. I say hi. The moon is full, and you can see it, even though it is cloudy. "Look at the moon!" I say. His wife comes out of the teahouse. "If you have time, come by and have some tea," she says.

最強的藥

有一天,在我的學校的診所(在美國),我看一個病人說他非常緊張,還有睡不著.我們每次給他吃中藥,扎針. 沒次我問他"你心情怎麼樣"?他沒次回答"比較好",但他還告訴我還有問題了.一個月,兩個月他這樣說,"比較好,可是還有問題了".

有一天,他告訴我他感覺百分之百比較好!他睡的著,還有心情很輕鬆.

有時雖然中醫的結果發生得漸漸的,但還有效."你看"我說,"中醫很有效!他笑,說"對了,中醫有幫助很多.但是,我沒告訴你我的很棒的消息--我上個禮辭職工作.我快要上大學念書!"

我笑得攏嘴.當然!最強的藥就是把自己的夢追求.

凱元,你為什麼來台灣?

[我的會中文的朋友:請你改政我的錯.以後我就請你吃大餐.很貴的.對呀.]

我的台灣朋友一認識我都問我"你為什麼來台灣呢?你是英文老師嘍?"不是,不是!這是我的故事....

我在美國學了四年的中醫.我的老師都是從中國大陸來的.我學中醫的時後開始對中國文化跟中文有興趣,所以我決定到亞洲多學習.




我和周老師在學校的診所.下面--我和中藥.





我好朋友Rikke建議在台灣讀書,因為台灣人都很熱心.還有看中醫書需要看得懂繁體字(還有我覺得繁體字比較漂亮).

住在國外跟住本國當然不一樣.在美國,我沒有語言的問題因為我說英文說得不錯!但在台灣,有時,我聽不懂中文.我會唱一首台語歌,但一定聽不懂台語!有時,不知道怎麼表達我自己的看法.常常是我台灣朋友幫助我,所以沒有什麼問題.

我覺得住在國外很有趣,因為一切事物都是新的!我認識好多台灣朋友,還有不少的外國人,從不同的國家.我在台灣有機會練習法文,還有西班牙話.

去年我住在台北九個月.我在師大學了六個月的中文書.然後,我回國考加州的中醫執照.今年的八月我回台灣,這次在政大讀書.我住在學校附近,在山上,所以風景很妙,空氣很好.

我繞路前行,但我覺得值得.中國人的看法跟西方人完全不一樣.我覺得對我心靈成長有幫助.

今天要放輕鬆一下

雖然我的中文不夠,我知道,但今天要用中文寫我的blog. 如果你是我的好朋有,請你改正我的錯.

今天,我要放輕鬆一下.現在我在我的套房喝著高山茶,聽著音樂(Coldplay).最近很忙.為什麼在這裡都很忙?有時我想要停,放鬆.不要太嚴肅!想在圖書館跳舞,在捷運唱歌.可是這不是加州.中國文化完全不一樣.

什麼活動讓你快樂?我很喜歡在成品書店把時間花.把握時機做自己喜歡做的事.

昨天我參加政大的合氣道社團(在美國我練過合氣道).哇,好好玩!都很熱情.之後我們一起吃了午餐.我回家以後,接到我朋友的電話.她請我跟她的朋友吃晚餐.

我們在士林見面.從木柵要一個小時,差不多!以前我住在那裡,覺得很漂亮.我記得,那個時候,我一個中國子都不會講.這個時候,我的台灣的經驗很新鮮的.現在我跟台北的生活比較熟了,但是每天還很有意思!

今天我要放輕鬆,可是還要讀書.作業滿多,怎麼辦?我要當一個很道地的中國男孩,所以我要讀書.再會很忙,跟台灣人一樣.我的變化會更道地嘍!

我的台灣朋友:我深深感謝你們,都很熱情,很妙!我真幸運!

我的妹妹的生日快到.妹妹,祝妳生日快樂!

Some Things I Saw Today...

Today, I saw...

My friend Alexis's four month-old dog Chocolat waiting for him outside of our practice room during aikido. I walked up to her and she started wagging her tail. She was so precious and jumped on me. I told her she was a very patient puppy, got a drink of water, and returned to the aikido techniques. After practice, everyone came up to her to play with her. And finally, when her "Daddy" came out, she started whimpering with joy and jumped up on him. Alexis took the leash off of her and she was jumping for joy.

A grandfather getting off of the bus at Gongguan. As he was doing this, he turned around and called his grandson to follow him. Just then, I felt a young boy push past me and catch up with his grandfather. As we waited at the curb for the light to turn green, the grandfather, a short, fat Taiwanese man of about sixty, put his arm around the boy, who was also short and fat, and who must have been about eight. They stood there with their shaved heads, the grandfather's hand on the boy's shoulder. I wonder if fifty year ago, a short, fat grandfather put his arm around this man, who of course was just a boy then.

A mother lovingly holding her sleeping four year-old on the bus. Next to her, her husband is loooking over a stack of math tests.

Two students in my aikido class who are boyfriend and girlfriend holding each others' hands during lunch.

A four year-old boy on the MRT looking up at me from his seat. I smile at him and he smiles back. His mother is next to him. She looks completely exhausted. I don't try to get her attention, as if to let her know her son is cute. She doesn't have time for that kind of thing. I smile at her curious son again and he smiles back. I hope right about now she is sleeping deeply.

A Taiwanese boy of about eighteen on the bus reading a screenplay in English. It looked like is trying to memorize the words.

A busdriver waving at me and pointing behind him, then driving by. He is not taking passengers and wants to assure me there is another bus behind him. A few minutes later, my bus arrives.

My three Taiwanese friends dressing up for their Halloween Party. One is dressed as the Status of Liberty. She is holding a book in her hand just like the real Statue of Liberty, except her book is the Lonely Planet Guide to Taiwan. Another friend is dressed like a ninja fighter complete with a sword. Another is a princess. I don't know about the ninja fighter, but I think my friend really is a princess in real life, and her friend who is dressed as the Statue of Liberty has lived in the States, and her boyfriend is from Texas.

A boy of about ten is doing kungfu (gongfu) moves in the foyer of the restaurant that we are leaving. His mother is nearby and looks totally exhausted. I really want to challenge him to a match, because he looks like he knows what he is doing (or more probably, it looks like he watches a lot of TV), and I am also in pretty good shape these days.

My Garden on the Mountain

Taipei's energy is quick and frantic, and tonight I seek balance, among the crickets and birds that call out in the night. I am here in my taofang (little studio) listening to them, trying to figure out if there's a message for me. That's life on the mountain in Muzha.

After an afternoon of studying, I decided to make a trip to Carrefour, Taiwan's hypermarche from France, where you can buy everything from DVD players to lard. I have a little extra money and there are some things I've needed to buy, so I take the bus to Xindian. It's a surprisingly short ride, and as I walk toward the store, I can feel some excitement.

It's called purchasing excitement. Yes, Roni is going shopping. Roni doesn't like capitalism and Roni has been known to sympathize with very left wing economists. However, tonight, I must confess, I am excited to buy stuff.

Carrefour is bustling with this purchasing excitement. Exciting, I would say inspiring, music is playing over the loudspeakers. I walk in and take my backpack off and give it to a security guard (I have been here before and know that he needs to put a plastic lock on the zipper.) He hands me my freshly locked backpack and smiles, saying (in English): "Thank you!" I give him a big smile, "No... thank YOU!" I say. He doesn't know that this is a little American joke, but I am being sincere. I can feel that he is a nice man.

These moments of human connection are important and transcend language and cultural barriers. They happen a lot in Taiwan.

I walk through the masses of people and see that there is a sale on men's clothing. I didn't come here to buy clothes, but I check the sale clothing anyway. Who doesn't want to look good? You know what they say, "The clothes make the man."

I look through some bins of sweaters that I can tell were once very organized, but have been sifted through by a day's worth of Taiwanese shoppers. I bet you I am the first foreigner today sifting through the hip sweaters.

"Bu hao! Bu hao! (Not good!)" a young girl says poutingly to her boyfriend as he picks up a shirt from the bin. I continue my sifting and then turn to him as they walk away. "Bu hao!" I say, in my imitation Taiwanese accent. Luckily, I get a smile from them and they do not pull out their cell phones and call the Carrefour security line.

"Hello security, there is a foreigner making stupid-ass jokes in the men's fashion section!" Phshew! I am off the hook!

I realize only in Taiwan that we Americans really like to make jokes. When I came here in August, I went to my school's administrative office and registered. When I responded to something the woman behind the counter asked with a joke, she looked at me with a blank stare. Then, a few seconds later, a look of relief came and then a smile. "Oh, you are American. You like to make jokes." Yes, I am American. I like to make jokes.

I walk into the library this past week. There is a table set up in the lobby and students are advertising the school's study-abroad programs to Europe and the States. With a straight face, I say in Chinese, "Hi, I would like to study in the United States." For some reason, I think this is extremely funny. They look very confused. I smile and tell them that I am American and I am just making a joke. Fortunately, they get it and start laughing as well.

I decide not to buy a sweater. I think I brought enough sweaters with me to Taiwan. If I need a sweater, I think to myself, I'll come back in a few months. You gotta be disciplined in these places, because I think the music all has subliminal messages say, "Hey, buy stuff you don't need at all. Come on!"

I pick up the things I came here to buy. A backpack, a water filter, and potting soil and plastic planters for the plants that I bought the first week I arrived in Taiwan. I've been meaning to replant them. Give them room to grow.

A Carrefour employee, a middle-aged Taiwanese woman, is demonstrating a special teapot. She's selling her wares in the middle of the flow of customer traffic, as if we are at a night market. She asks me if I would like to buy it. I tell her I already bought it (actually, a friend gave me the same thing last week). She doesn't have any customers watching her demonstration, so I hang out with her for a few extra seconds. She starts demonstrating the product. I don't want to be rude, so in English I say, "Hey, I gotta run," figuring she will not exactly understand, but she will get the idea that I am taking off. She gets it, especially because as I say it, I walk away.

She smiles at me and I think she is a little bit of a Taiwanese comedian, as she says something in Taiwanese on her microphone, knowing that other customers are watching our interaction. Damn, Taiwan is fun.

I manage to not spend too much time picking up what I need and find myself on the bus home a few minutes later. I get off at Zhengda (政大) and wait for the bus that will take me up the mountain. I must look a little ridiculous, a foreigner lugging around two backpacks (my old and new one) and two plastic bags full of stuff.

My bus comes and ten minutes later, I am in my room. I have decided that tonight is a time to garden. In my room!

I drop my two backpacks and two bags full of stuff, take my shirt off (it's hot!), and pull out the potting soil and the new pots and put them on the bathroom floor. I then pick up my plants and place them next to the soil and the pots and I'm ready to begin.

With Brazilian music in the background, I set about repotting the plants. When I'm done, I hose down the bathroom floor and find good places for the newly repotted plants.


A simple palm graces the kitchen area, bringing a fresh, natural feeling to my daily tea ritual.





As one enters my room, plants in the foyer welcome you, saying, 歡迎光臨.







Several plants grace my desk, making my forays into technology that much more enjoyable.


Gardening can be hard work, and I shower and go to bed, but not without admiring my new garden.

Soulmates

Do you believe in soulmates? In the Jewish tradition, this is called besherta. We all have a soulmate, and if we are lucky, we find her.

Sometimes, I think this idea of having a soulmate keeps me lonely. But someone might say it keeps me available in case she comes into my life.

In the Buddhist tradition, we don't need anyone to complete us. We can give up our hope for a soulmate and just rest in the present moment. The Sufis say that the Beloved is present at all times. These mystical traditions say that Love is available in every moment, and that it doesn't need to come from another person. Here's a poem by Rumi (translated by Andrew Harvey), called "Love's Horse Will Carry You Home":

The whole world could be choked with thorns
A Lover's heart will stay a rose garden.
The wheel of heaven could wind to a halt
The world of Lovers will go on turning.
Even if every being grew sad, a Lover's soul
Will stay fresh, vibrant, light.
Are all the candles out? Hand them to a Lover -
A Lover shoots out a hundred thousand fires.
A lover may be solitary, but he is never alone.
For companion he always has the hidden Beloved.
The drunkenness of Lovers comes from the soul,
And Love's companion stays hidden in secret.
Love cannot be deceived by a hundred promises;
It knows how innumerable the ploys of seducers are.
Wherever you find a Lover on a bed of pain
You find the Beloved right by his bedside.
Mount the stallion of Love and do not fear the path -
Love's stallion knows the way exactly.
With one leap, Love's horse will carry you home
However black with obstacles the way may be.
The soul of a real Lover spurns all animal fodder,
Only in the wine of bliss can his soul find peace.
Through the Grace of Shams-ud-Din of Tabriz, you will possess
A heart at once drunk and supremely lucid.

Ken Wilber is a famous philosopher and American Buddhist. He knows that enlightenment is available right now. In one of his books, which is in the form of a journal describing his daily life, he talks about meeting a woman and how they began to grow closer. I loved how in his book, he compared relationship to money. He quotes an old Jewish saying that goes something like this: "Whether you're rich or poor, you can still be happy. But, I'd rather be rich." He says that according to the great mystical traditions, whether you are in relationship or not, it doesn't matter, you can still be happy. But, he describes the excitement of meeting his girlfriend and he concludes, it sure feels better to be in relationship.

I suppose we can approach the topic of love the way an old Zen master would:

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child. This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.

In great anger the parent went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbours and everything else he needed.

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth - the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back.

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?"

If it is time for this kind of love to come into our lives, then we can welcome it, saying "is that so?" If it is not time for this kind of love, can we say, "is that so?"

In an Instant Be Free

Throughout the world, the leading instant coffee is Nescafe. This poem is about instant freedom. There are times when I have experienced this, when getting to the Holy Land doesn't require forty years in the desert. Hopefully, this kind of freedom, like Nescafe, can also become a bestseller.

Precious one,
You live in a house built by your own mind.
Sometimes it gives you hours of pleasure,
and sometimes it's a prison.

In one instant, you could escape.
Be free.

And all of your funny little dilemmas,
your bad karma, your stange preferences,
and your curses, too, would be gone.

Well, let's just say you would
be laughing pretty hard.

Don't forget this.
In an instant, your life can change.

Listen carefully to unseen clues,
trust like a child,
and don't give up.

Meeting with a Heron

Tonight I take a walk just before midnight, down the mountain. After walking for about 15 minutes, I see something with a large wingspan swoop down in front of me. It sits on a bridge over a creek that flows down the mountain. I stand across the street from it, just looking at it. It sees me, but doesn't move. Some cars speed down the mountain, their lights beaming at the heron. It flinches a little bit but doesn't fly away. I am still standing across from it.

Is the bird curious about me? What is it doing there?

I feel like I am with another living being, which I am, and we are meeting for just a moment. I will never see this being again. Tomorrow, when I am in Chinese class, where will the heron be?

The American Indians always believe that every encounter with an animal carries a message. What is the heron's message to me?

Adventure at the Taipei Zoo

I went to the Taipei Zoo a few weeks ago and am finally getting around to posting some photos from my visit. I usually get a little sad at zoos because I don't like to see the animals in captivation. It is bad enough to see what humans beings do to other human beings everyday in the news. Why do we have to involve the animals?

Here are three primates, I think they are macaques. I like the way they groom each other and eat the fleas off of each others' backs. I think if humanity copied this behavior, there would be peace on earth.

They look pretty bored of us humans gawking at them. In sign language, I think one of them is saying, "please get me an Xbox."


Upon entering the zoo, we were all graced with the sight of these flamingoes. I think you can rent them for birthday parties, but they count them before they rent them out and require that they all be returned back to the zoo.

I would rent a van to do this, because I don't think they can all fit in a small Toyota, and I think the MRT has a sign that says, "No chewing gum or betel nut, eating or drinking, and no goddamn flamingoes!"


Here are the zebras. I sometimes wonder why they have stripes, I mean evolutionarily speaking. I think they would be more easily spotted by tigers. So, my only conclusion is, simply, that it makes them look sexier.


Speaking of sexy, here are my sexy friends. My two Japanese friends Hikari and Yumika on the sides were not scared, because I think a long time ago, Japanese people ate most of the animals in the zoo for breakfast, along with a little soy sauce and wasabi.

Yumika's friend in the center was afraid of most every animal. I scared her a few times, so I think she probably doesn't want to go to the zoo with me again because of that. I am sorry. I won't do it again. I promise.

Unless we are in the giftshop again and there is a rubber snake on the shelf and you are right next to me.

It's only rubber, come on!

Loneliness

Yesterday, I woke up feeling lonely.

I remember being straight out of college, having only recently moved to San Francisco, and talking to my friend Gayle about loneliness. Gayle is twenty years older than me, has been around the block a few times, and I always appreciate hearing her words of wisdom.

"Ron, loneliness is just a part of life. Get used to it! Learn to feel comfortable with it, don't run away from it. Fix yourself a cup of tea."

Wise words.

After a morning of practicing aikido on campus yesterday, I had lunch with my practice buddies, and returned to my room on the mountain. I had plans with my friend Yilin in the evening, and I thought I would go to a cafe and have that cup of tea that Gayle told me about so many years ago. I also bought a book of Chinese stories (in Chinese!) and was looking forward to making my way through the first story.

I showered and shaved, and took a bus to Taipei 101. There's a new bookstore near there, the new Xin Yi branch of Eslite (誠品). Besides tea, there are a few other things which make me happy. Bookstores are one of them. I thought I would do a little browsing and then head to a cafe and read my book.

Eslite is humongous, bustling with Taiwanese people looking at books. I think Taiwanese people like bookstores as much as I do.

I finally find a cafe, order some wulong tea, and open my book. It is a beautiful, classic story by the famous Zhu Ziqing (朱自清）Helter Skelter (匆匆). It starts like this:

Though swallows may fly away, they come back again; though willows may drop their leaves, they bud again; though peach blossoms may scatter, they bloom again. Yet, clever one, tell me, once my days have passed, why do they never return?

燕子去了，有再來的時候；楊柳枯了，有再青的時候；桃花謝了，有再開的時候。但是，聰明的，你告訴我，我們的日子為什麼一去不复返呢？

I set about translating the words I don't know. I enjoy this time drinking tea and studying Chinese. In the midst of this, I have a major realization.

I realize that no matter what is happening in my life, I can find beauty in what exists right now. I know everyone has read this somewhere or another. I have heard this a lot, too. But there is some way that I "get it" there in the cafe.

I think about a Zen story I once heard:

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child. This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.

In great anger the parent went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbours and everything else he needed.

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth - the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back.

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?"

Can I be like old Hakuin? Whatever is happening, can I just relax and not take it personally?

This morning, I wake up feeling some of the same loneliness. We all have so much love inside of us and I sometimes believe that the feeling of loneliness comes from our waiting for a specific person to come along and accept our love and reflect it back to us. There's something wonderful about that.

On the bus this morning, I decide to not wait for anybody! I decide to feel all that love inside and give it freely to no one in particular. My heart is open, and the feeling of love expands. I am sitting on the 236 to Muzha and am beaming with a feeling of love.

A college student of about nineteen gets on the bus and smiles at me.

I remember a Rumi poem that once hung in my apartment on Shattuck Street in Berkeley:

Love's Horse Will Carry You Home

The whole world could be choked with thorns
A Lover's heart will stay a rose garden.
The wheel of heaven could wind to a halt
The world of Lovers will go on turning.
Even if every being grew sad, a Lover's soul
Will stay fresh, vibrant, light.
Are all the candles out? Hand them to a Lover -
A Lover shoots out a hundred thousand fires.
A lover may be solitary, but he is never alone.
For companion he always has the hidden Beloved.
The drunkenness of Lovers comes from the soul,
And Love's companion stays hidden in secret.
Love cannot be deceived by a hundred promises;
It knows how innumerable the ploys of seducers are.
Wherever you find a Lover on a bed of pain
You find the Beloved right by his bedside.
Mount the stallion of Love and do not fear the path -
Love's stallion knows the way exactly.
With one leap, Love's horse will carry you home
However black with obstacles the way may be.
The soul of a real Lover spurns all animal fodder,
Only in the wine of bliss can his soul find peace.
Through the Grace of Shams-ud-Din of Tabriz, you will possess
A heart at once drunk and supremely lucid.

Rumi (Translated by Andrew Harvey)

Surely, I'll forget all of this and remember it again.

Satisfied Mind

Last night, my friend Yilin (易霖) and I went to Xi Zhi (汐止), a suburb east of Taipei, to meet a friend. She is an American artist who is visiting Taipei to make her contribution to Taipei's "Dream Community," a group of artists whose mission it is to bring more of the arts into education in Taiwan. A wonderful, noble endeavor.

Taiwan is good at "producing", "discipline", "following the rules". Taiwan needs more "wild", "creative", "expression". Fortunately, the seeds are here, they just need nurturing.

Yilin and I met at the Kunyang MRT station, ate, and then took a bus to our destination, a small part of Xi Zhi called the Golden Dragon Village (金龍里). On the bus, we had time to catch up. Yilin's a teacher and quite busy these days as his middle school students take their big high school qualifying exams. And I tell him of my life, settling into my life on the mountain, studying Chinese. Finally, we get to the Golden Dragon and the Dream Community.

Yilin is impressed by what he sees, and we are looking forward to meeting some of the community. I manage to find out where my friend is staying, and we arrive at her apartment. Her French roommate tells us that she is in her room taking a nap and that we should return in an hour. I think about waking her up, but something tells me to let her rest and I just can't bear the thought of waking her up. So, I write a note and slide it under her door and we leave, deciding to find her in an hour.

In the meantime, we walk around and talk to folks we meet in the community. I step in some dogshit right in the middle of the street. "This is common in Taiwan," Yilin informs me. "You will have good luck!"

After sanitizing my shoes for a minute, we stroll over to a well-lit area (it's nighttime) full of large art projects. Some American guys are painting a large paper mache float (like, for a parade). I introduce myself and I can tell they are still wondering what I am doing here. I tell them that my friend has invited me, but that she's asleep.

One of them, tattooed and smoking a cigarette, tells me he's from San Francisco. The other invites us to paint with them. We tell them that we're going to take off and have a few beers while waiting for my friend.

"Bring us some chicks.. and some booze," one of them said. I feel like I'm right back in California.

I have never heard Taiwanese guys talk about chicks and booze. They are are mostly thinking about how to get their next promotion. It's a breath of fresh air.

Yilin and I walk over to the local 7-11 and buy some Taiwan beer and find a nice spot where we can talk and enjoy our fine beverages. It's a comfortable Taipei evening, on the cool side for most Taiwanese, just right for me. The sky's clear. We sit, drinking our beer and talk about whatever--our families, about getting older, life in Taiwan, life in the States--quoting classical sources and poetry if possible. In English, this is called "shooting the shit".

We return to the Dream Community, our brains pleasantly buzzed, and we discover that my friend still hasn't gotten up, apparently. Her apartment building is locked and it's starting to get late. The trip back will take over an hour. We smile at each other and decide to head back home.

This morning, she sends me an e-mail. She finally got up--this morning, after thirteen hours of sleep! I am so happy I didn't wake her up. What is more precious than sleep to a person who probably hasn't slept for days? What a nice gift I gave her, not knocking her door down to wake her.

Life is full of gifts. I am reminded of Johnny Cash's song, Satisfied Mind:

How many times have you heard someone say
"If I had his money, I could do things my way?"
Little they know that it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten with a satisfied mind.

Once I was winning in fortune and fame.
Everything that I dreamed for to get a start in life's game.
Suddenly it happened, I lost every dime.
But I'm richer by far with a satisfied mind.

Money can't buy back your youth when you're old.
Or a friend when you're lonely, or a love that's grown cold.
The wealthiest person is a pauper at times
Compared to the man with a satisfied mind.

When my life is ended, my time has run out,
My trials and my loved ones, I'll leave them no doubt.
But one thing's for certain, when it comes my time
I'll leave this old world with a satisfied mind.

Sitting there under the stars with a friend last night, having a couple of beers, I think to myself that there is nothing more precious.

I've got that satisfied mind.

Kissing the Moment as She Flies

Today was the big day. Two weeks of preparation, every day devoting my spare moments to practicing. Praying, hoping that I would do well. Imagining myself getting it right.

I rested last night so I would have energy for my big day. And finally it came. This morning, I packed my things and headed to Taoyuan with my friends, Xiao Fei (小飛), Xiao Zhao (小昭), and Jian Min (建民).

By now, I can hear you. "Okay, what is all this preparing about? What, are you taking another licensing exam? Sheesh, does it ever end, Ron?"

Well, you'll be happy to know that no licensing exam was involved today (wasn't this past year enough?).

No, today I participated in something fun, something, well, unexpected. I participated in Taoyuan's Folk Festival.

Yes, folks, two weeks ago, our teacher pointed out a flyer for the "Taiwanese Singing Contest for Foreigners". Some bell inside of went off. "You better do this!" a voice urged along with the bell.

I have been so busy, I thought to myself, "No, don't, you don't have the time. Be a little more lazy!" But then another voice said (real loud): "CARPE DIEM". And yet another voice said, "DO THE DIFFICULT". (I heard that last one from a Thai monk and it has stuck with me.)

And so, I ask my good friend Yilin to teach me the most famous Taiwanese song, written in 1933, called "Longing for a Spring Wind" (望春風). We get together and he explains the intricacies of Taiwanese pronunciation. People in the cafe look at the two of us a little funny. "There's a waiguoren in the corner singing 望春風!"

Walking around campus the following week, I look for guitar players strumming their instruments, and find Xiao Fei. I ask him if he would willing to back me up, and a few days later he calls me. "Yes!"

We have our first practice about a week ago, and Xiao Fei brings his two friends Xiao Zhao and Jian Min. They are all great musicians, and members of the school's guitar club. I apologize to them in advance--this week, we'll need to get together a few times to practice and you guys will have to learn two songs.

"No problem," they all reply, "we're not really that serious about our studies!"

"Excellent," I respond... I have a band. (No groupies, though... yet!)

For the past week, I've been singing the song while sitting on benches waiting for buses, sitting on these buses, walking up the hill to go class, walking down the hill to go to class. You get the idea.

I get my haircut yesterday and sing it to the old Taiwanese ladies who cut hair at the university barber shop (for a mere 120NT, or about 4 USD). (They smile and compliment me.) I sing it to the taxi driver who gives me a ride home a few nights ago, and he helps me with some words. He, like all the people I meet here in Taiwan, is very warm (熱情）, and compliments me. He is a little surprised. I am a waiguoren. He probably doesn't pick up many waiguoren who sings Taiwanese songs to him in his cab.

I get an e-mail from the Taoyuan city government cultural office this past week. The contest is cancelled--not enough foreigners, apparently, are keen on singing in Taiwanese. However, they still want me to come and sing. Of course, I say yes.

They also had asked me to prepare a song from "my own culture" (and dress in my "own culture's" clothing). Hmm, what is "my culture"?

God bless America (and the whole rest of the world, while you're at it), but I can tell you that it probably ain't mainstream American culture. I grew up hearing my parents (who are immigrants) talk like this: "You know, Americans are so (fill in the blank)", so I've grown up with a sort of dual (at least) identity. In my twenties, I joined a Middle Eastern Jewish band, and got in touch with my cultural roots, which are somewhere in the Middle East. I became, along with six other dudes, a Middle Eastern Jewish Rock Star.

And so, I decided that I would perform one of our band's show-stoppers, Et Dodim (The Time of Lovers) at the show. I sat in the library this past Thursday with my band's recording of the song and transcribed the words in Hebrew, refreshing my memory for the big show.

And then there was my clothing adventure. I figured I want to wear something Middle Eastern. Half of my family is from Morocco. Of course, I don't have any Middle Eastern clothing with me in Taipei. So, I improvise.

I head to "Tandoor Restaurant" on Friday night and talk to the owner. I tell him I need a white kurta. "What for?" he asks. I tell him I'll be performing this weekend, and I need an ethnic costume. I begin singing the only Hindi song I know (sang by Raj Kapur). "Mera juta hai japani..."

"You don't think I can sing that in jeans, do you?" I say. He nodds his head and shakes my hand. "Call me tomorrow and I'll see what I can do."

That night, I get a message from my friend Sajeev, who is Taiwanese but who has been to India. I had mentioned to him that I needed to borrow some Indian clothing. "Come to Daan Park tonight. I will bring the clothes."

And so, I meet Sajeev at the park. Since it is the Mid-Autumn Festival, the park is bustling with people. On the stage on the west side of the park, an ensemble is playing hakka music. Sajeev arrives and he makes the delivery.

But not before introducing me to his six friends who are all Sufis. "Well, we are all Sufis who have been inspired by Osho." Osho is a guru from India. After the concert, they all dance and sang. I am surprised at how liberally they are all shaking their booties. "Are you sure you are Taiwanese?"

"Actually we're not," one of them jokes. "Can you see how we are all a little more sexual than most Taiwanese?"

Osho is a good guru. He talks about not repressing your sexuality. Maybe I'll talk about him in another blog. We're getting off the topic here. I know you like talking about sexuality and you like where I am going with this, but calm down, there, cowboys and cowgirls.

I guess what I am saying was that preparing for this concert today was a hell of an adventure.

I didn't even mention that on Saturday, while looking for a costume, I bumped into two of my closest friends in Taipei. Emmy had e-mailed me the night before and we bumped into each other at Ximending. Sheenru had messaged me earlier in the day to say hi and I bumped into her on the MRT.

I told both of them that I don't believe in coincidences. Especially not in a city as big as Taipei. When things like this happen, I actually have to remind myself that although they may seem like coincidences, well, just think critically. How many days do you run around Taipei and run into no one? Months maybe? And then two of your closest friends who you haven't seen in a while contact you, and within hours you bump into them?

It's good to be reminded that we are all connected and that something else, something not quite tangible, is going on.

Also, as my friend reminds me, it is the Mid-Autumn Festival, a time for family reunions. "You are bumping into your family!" she says

Okay, so far, I've practiced my Taiwanese song a lot, and with Sajeev's delivery, now have my clothing. Now, I wake up and it's Sunday morning. I realize I need to write some words in Chinese introducing the songs I will be singing. In the past few days I realized that the two songs I am singing are perfectly matched.

The Taiwanese song I am singing, Wang Chun Feng, is about a girl of eighteen or so who has spotted the boy of her dreams, but, because of her cultural conditioning, can't approach him, so she waits for him to court her. He never comes. It is a sad song of longing for that spring wind.

The Hebrew song, Et Dodim, is the song of a groom inviting his love to the garden to celebrate their love. It's the perfect answer to this young girl's longing. Oh my!

And so I walk to campus this morning and bump into a friend of mine, Winston, who is a law student. Winston is in his thirties and just returned from a trip to Nepal. "Do you have any time to help me with Chinese?"

"Sure," he says.

I explain to Winston my situation. I explain the two songs and what I want to say about them. Winston is smart. He writes some eloquent words that say what I would like to say, but in Chinese. I practice them on the way to the gig. Here they are:

今天我要為各位來賓唱兩首歌曲,一首是台灣傳統民謠"望春風",是描述一位少女遇到一位如意郎君的思莫心境.當我的朋友介紹這首歌給我並解釋它的意思,我深深感動,並喜歡上這首歌.
令外一首歌是我的家鄉--以色列的一首家喻戶曉的民謠,用來回音望春風的淒美.是訴說一位未婚夫邀請他的未婚妻來花園團聚,互訴情衷,曲名"愛的時刻",現在是中秋佳節.月圓人團圓.以這首歌祝福大家"有情人衷成眷屬. [是我台灣朋友幫我寫--不是我自己寫得!]

It's time for sound check. I get dressed. And it's time to perform.

I perform. It is nothing special. I am nervous, a foreigner, a white foreigner, singing a Taiwanese folksong in front of an audience of a hundred Taiwanese people. Some of them look like they were born before the song was written. I forget a few words, but manage to not make a fool of myself.

I sing my Hebrew folksong, which I feel more comfortable singing. People in the audience look a little interested. At the same time, the look on their faces says, "Uhh, what the...?"

All of the preparation, and there is no peak experience, no moment of triumph, no ecstasy. It seems the event goes by quickly, and with my friends, I am back in Taipei a few hours later.

We take the bus back to Zheng Da. It stops at the school's entrance, and so I must walk up the mountain (which only takes about twenty minutes). As I walk, I see the tea house at the foot of the mountain. I've run out of tea, and so I walk in.

In Chinese, I tell them I would like to buy some wulong cha. Since this is a tea house and not 7-11, they invite me to have a seat and sample some teas. And so begins an hour of fine tea-drinking and sharing each others' stories.

The laoban (owner), a young-looking man of 43, explains how we smell the tea before drinking it, first in its dry state, then the moistened tea leaves, then in the just-emptied smelling cup, before actually drinking the tea.

"This wulong tea," he explains, "is from Alishan, and is famous for it's hint of milk." He explains different ways of drinking the tea, different types of tea, how to make the tea, and lots more. He tells me he grew up in this house, and now he's made it into this beautiful tea house.

I tell them that I performed a Taiwanese song today, and I sing half of it to them. They smile and tell me I sing it pretty good. I feel like this performance is more meaningful than my performance at the festival.

These moments in the tea house feel very essential. I don't know--the big event was fun, but it didn't have some feeling that is always obvious to me, something which I call "essential". But sitting here, as the laoban explains how he prepares the tea leaves by hand, I feel that I have discovered a treasure.

I buy a bag of tea and say goodnight to them--it is almost midnight--and I walk up the mountain to my little taofang. There's a dog in the street that winds up the mountain, and he's in a playful mood. For the next ten minutes, he plays this game--he looks at me and then runs up the street a little, then looks at me and runs up some more. And then, he's gone.

Mid-Autumn Flamenco

It's the Mid-Autumn Festival in Taiwan. Everyone is taking a break for the next five days. And everyone needs it! I just called a friend (at ten) and it sounded like I woke her up from the night of the living dead. So sorry, dear! Go back to sleep and call me at four.

I am having a lazy morning, listening to flamenco music. Listening to it makes me want to dance fiercely and shout with passion!

Something in this music moves me deeply. Perhaps my own Middle Eastern roots. Since half of my family is Moroccan-Jewish, I wonder where in Spain my sephardic ancestors once lived.

I think back to last year, my friend Michael and I hiked near the Maokang tea plantations, and found an old temple, where some old Taiwanese men were drinking tea. Since Michael speaks fluent Chinese (and is just a jovial kind of guy), they invited us to join them. They probably were wondering how this waiguoren who stands at over six feet speaks such good Chinese. We sat and chatted and let the tea do its wonders. Up on the mountain, drinking wulong cha, communing with nature and our new friends, it was quite a refined moment, typically Chinese.

The spirit of flamenco, hands raised, eyes closed, a foot piercing the floor in defiance. The spirit of Chinese culture, epitomized by that moment drinking tea on the mountain, maybe even reciting some old classic poetry. Totally different.

And yet, you can find flamenco-lovers here in Taiwan. There is a flamenco dance troupe at Zhengda, where I study. At lunch the other day, they put on a performance. I felt moved by the music and by the beautiful dancers. They were all Taiwanese, but they all got the spirit of the dance. We were all in Andalusia, right there at the foot of the Maokang hills.

Different culture have their specialties, but we are all human and we have everything inside of us. Surprising but true.

This English is Chinese!

My friend shows me some reports written in English by her colleague at work. "Please forgive me," I say after skimming through them. "This isn't English." She looks surprised. "It's Chinese."

Reading the words, all written in English, more carefully, one realizes that my friend's colleague is still thinking in Chinese. It's as if she has used some kind of translation software to produce the report. It looks like English, but it's not!

And so, I am in demand here in Taiwan. People always want to practice their English with me. Once Chinese speakers learn grammar and vocabulary, the journey can begin! It's like what they say in the martial arts. Once you get your black belt, you are ready to begin studying the true martial art.

Can you think using the images of an English speaker? Can you shape your sentences like a native speaker? Did you know that English has tones, just like Chinese?

People here in Taiwan are much more academically focused than people on the States. They have all taken a lot of exams. It's funny to meet students who are preparing for their GRE's, but who are still afraid of speaking English.

Fortunately, I am studying Chinese, and I understand the difficulty that people have in learning English. I am trying to climb over the same wall, but from the opposite side! My friends give me words in Chinese and I forget them quickly. The syllables in Chinese sound the same sometimes. Is it "re qing" or "re xin"? And who can remember the tones?

I love my Taiwanese friends. They always encourage me, saying "slowly, slowly, you'll get it." 慢慢萊!

I realize that learning a language is just like life. Relax. Let the river flow (and don't push it). Let it wash over you. Swim hard. Then relax. Do flips in the water. Jump on your friend and splash her! Float. Get out of the water and eat some watermelon.

Learn like a child.

I Think My Cute Russian Classmate Is Strung Out on Hardcore Drugs

This week in class (which starts at 8:10 a.m. every day), everyone has been looking a little ragged.

On Monday, Susie the cute American girl from North Carolina invited me to go clubbing on Wednesday night. I thought it might be possible, but I felt tired in class on Tuesday and predicted that coming home at 3:00 in the morning on Thursday morning would probably make my life very difficult for a few days afterwards.

On Wednesday, Susie and the other American girl, Kristen (by the way, I am using their real names), didn't show. I secretly feel relieved, as I will not have to tell Susie that I am probably not going out dancing with her because I just need to sleep.

Another student, Yi Yin, who is from Austria (I don't know her Austrian name), guessed that they were probably out partying the night before. Yi Yin is always tired and tells me she is barely surviving on five hours of sleep a night.

"Are you drinking too much caffeine?" I wonder. She responds that she is just doing a lot.

"That's Taiwan," I say.

Later in class, I look over at my Russian classmate. Her face is paler than usual, and her eyes look like she has been doing some hardcore drugs (okay, I am exaggerating, but I really like the title of this post).

Tonight, I need to fold the laundry that I did a few days ago. I have been storing it on my bed during the day and on the rug at night. My rationale for not doing this is that "the ten minutes that it would take to do this is ten more minutes of sleep." (Obviously, writing in the blog takes priority over folding clothes and sleeping.)

Well, it really is bedtime for me. Time to move that laundry and get some sleep.

Meeting of the Zheng Da Chinese Medicine Club

Today, I attended the first meeting of the Chinese Medicine Club at Zhengda. It is a student group that meets to learn about traditional medicine, inviting teachers to speak and visiting local clinics.

The teacher walks in to the classroom, a Chinese man in his mid-fifties. About fifteen of us are in our seats, ready for the lecture, entitled, "A General Outline of Chinese Medicine", to begin. He asks whether any of us has studied Chinese Medicine. No one has.

Except Mr. Waiguoren (that's Mandarin for me, a foreigner).

He asks me to stand up and introduce myself. In Chinese, I tell the class my name and that I studied Chinese Medicine in the States and that I just got my license. He smiles and thinks this is funny, as does everyone here when they learn I have studied Chinese Medicine in the States.

He gives a basic lecture on the basics of Chinese Medicine--yin/yang, five elements. He writes it all on the board and compares the traditional characters they use in Taiwan with the simplified characters used on the mainland. A lot of meaning is lost, and it's a shame.

He starts to explain the location of the points on the Lung channel and bleeds a point on his thumb (LU-1) for the class. Amazingly, I understand about 80% of the lecture. It is so cool to hear the words that I've learned in Chinese class and the Chinese medical terminology I learned in acupuncture school, here in a class on Chinese Medicine in Taiwan.

I don't know if I can explain the feeling, but it is sort of like watching yourself drive in slow motion soon after you learn how to drive. In slow motion, you press the clutch, shift into gear, push the accelerator, you look at the display, you signal left, you apply the breaks. And, lo and behold, you are driving.

I help the girl next to me locate a point on the Lung channel ("I lived in San Jose for a year when I was little," she says), and then as we go through the channel, I get up and help some of the confused students. Our teacher gives me the go-ahead with a gesture of his hand.

My first lecture on Chinese Medicine, in Chinese! At the end of class, the organizer asks me if I can tutor the class. I tell her my Chinese is pretty bad, but she says it is okay.

As usual, everyone is extremely warm.

Get Back to Where You Once Belonged

Which is nearer,
name or self?
Which is dearer,
self or wealth?
Which gives more pain,
loss or gain?

All you grasp will be thrown away.
All you hoard will be utterly lost.

Lao Zi, Dao De Jing, Chapter 44 (trans: Ursula LeGuin)

Today, I sat in the Chiang Kai Shek library at Zhengda as I do most every afternoon, studying Chinese. On the third floor of the library, there is large room with rows of tables, and after lunch, they fill up. A sign on the wall, in Chinese, says "Solemn and Respectful," which can also be translated as "Do Not Make ANY Noise, Okay?" Across from me, a twenty year-old girl is looking at a report she has put together. It is in English and it looks like it is business-related.

Another generation of young Taiwanese, getting ready to enter the workplace. I imagine this room full of kids, and how in five or ten years, they'll be exactly like all my Taiwanese students last year, when I worked as an English teacher. Many will still be living with their parents. Their lives will be focused on saving money and getting promotions. They will be afraid to speak English.

Such a rush, about nothing at all,
uch a fuss, about nothing at all.
Such rush, such a rush.

***

I get together with a friend for dinner. She tells me how she got married in her twenties and discovered that she wasn't happy. She goes to India and when she comes back, her husband wants a divorce. She is in her late 30's now and she is deeply involved in spirituality. She is quite an anomaly as far as Taiwanese people go.

She tells me how in Taiwan, daughters are treated as second class. That women don't have the rights that men do.

I look over to the table next to us. A forty-year old dad is sitting with his eleven year-old daughter, going over her homework. The daughter is engaged and laughs. The dad is involved, actively coaching her, making sure she understands. This is a very common scene in Taiwan, parents with kids in cafes, making sure their kids do their homework. I tell my friend how I think this is wonderful. You never see this kind of thing in the States.

"I view it totally different," she replies.

***

A few days ago, after a day of studying, and then aikido practice, I end up on Zhinan Rd. looking for food. I go to a Taiwanese soup stand, where you can pick your ingredients, and they cook it up for you. It's about 9:30 and I sit down across the street from the vendor and eat my noodles and vegetables. A student walks by and looks at me. He stops and starts talking to me. I understand that he wants to practice his English, and so I invite him to have a seat. I tell him my story and he tells me his. He tells me that he could never do what I did, change careers to do something he loves. "My parents control every aspect of my life," he says.

He tells me journalism is not really respected in Taiwan and that somehow, he's going to try to get into advertising after he graduates. Both of his parents work in advertising.

***

There's a book sale in the library. Many of the books are in English. A student picks up a book about macroeconomics. "經濟," I say, "很大的." "Economy. Very big." "Oh," he responds, "and turns to his friend and says (hopefully) the characters for macroeconomics in Chinese. I smile at him and say, "My bad Chinese and your bad English. Together, we understand!" It's another gem of a Taiwanese moment.

***

I am sitting in front of the library today, talking to my new friend Ileen with two e's in a row. She walks around campus with a camera. She is Taiwanese but was raised in South Africa. She is a journalism major. My friend Vivienne from Burkino Faso walks by and the three of us talk in French about African politics. The situation in South Africa, apparently isn't great right now.

I remark how all three of us are from Africa! Well, half of my family is from Morocco. Vivienne grants me honorary African citizenship. I thank her profusely.