Thursday, September 28, 2006

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.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

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.

The Mind is a Funny Thing

Today at our class break, I noticed my classmate's beautiful flowing avocado green tie-dyed cotton dress. She is French Canadian, an intelligent twentysomething who would fit right into the Bay. "Hey, I like your dress," I said as we pass each other near the water fountain.

"You think I look stressed?" she responds, and then realizes what I said. She then laughs and admits that she is indeed stressed.

"The mind is a funny thing, isn't it?" I reply.

Today's toast goes to my friend Ted. You are my brother, with a heart the size of the 14 northern counties of California, including Yosemite, Humboldt, and Mendocino. May all your wildest fucking dreams come true.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Salsa Nirvana

Today, I accidentally hit the music icon on my PDA and realized that my Palm Pilot can function as an MP3 player. Oh my god. Life will never be the same. At least for the next few weeks.

An additional benefit is that I can be like all the other Taiwanese kids here in Taipei listening to MP3s on the bus. Except I will be listening to quality music, not crappy pop music (except for Jay Zhou (周杰倫) and Jolin (蔡依林)). Oh, and let's not forget my favorite, the amazing Sun Yan Zi (孙燕姿).

Here is a photo of Jolin. Roni says: Jolin, I live only for you.

Here is the music that I downloaded this evening onto my Palm:

  • David Darling's Darkwood (meditative cello music that will make you feel like you are in love, with no one in particular)
  • Maraca's Descarga Total (the hottest salsa music that you will ever listen to, and will make you want to dance with the old toothless Taiwanese lady next door who gets up early to wash vegetables)
  • "Such a Rush" by Coldplay (the theme song of modern times)

In case you haven't heard this last song, I suggest you get a copy of it. Here are the words:
Such a rush to do nothing at all.
Such a fuss to do nothing at all.
Such a rush to do nothing at all.

Such a rush to get nowhere at all.
Such a fuss to do nothing at all.
Such a rush.

So slow down please.
Just slow down.
So slow down please.
Just slow down.

Looking at a paper,
Going after money.
Far too many people
Looking for their money.
Everybody's out there,
Trying to get money.
Why can't you just tell me?
Trying to get money rush.

Such a rush.
No rush.
Such a rush.
Why are we all in such a rush?

My best friend in the States e-mailed me on Friday and told me that he is moving to India to go deep into himself and let go of his attachments. I am so happy for him. As I wrote to him in an e-mail today, "it seems like information (aka, "crap") accumulates and then, by some kind of mysterious grace, some heretofore blocked stream opens up."

We all have different paths. It feels like listening to Maraca's salsa music is nirvana for me right now. The only thing that would be better would be dancing to it. Maybe with Jennifer Lopez.

To my brother who is getting ready to begin his new journey: Congratulations! And to all of you who have a journey that you'd like to begin, I'm praying that your own stream gushes forth and that you can be free.

Sounds like a good prayer, which would be appropriate, since it is the Jewish New Year. Shana tova, everyone!

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Lazy Saturday Afternoon Post

I am here in the library at National Chengchi University. This morning, I woke up to the sounds of a few roosters and birds who live on the mountain here. On Saturday mornings, I have aikido class. As always, it can be described in one word: fun!

Afterwards, some of the students hang around and practice their aikido moves, and then they end up sitting cross-legged on the mat, laughing and teasing each other. One of them goes to the piano in the room where we practice and starts playing classical piano. Surely, she began when she was just a kid. Some of the girls start making up a little aikido dance to go with the music.

I sit and watch, talking to a new friend of mine. She is nervous about testing for her blackbelt next week. Inevitably, we get nervous about big things like blackbelt tests. I tell her it is good to be nervous. I've learned not to fight against the feeling and just accept it. When I used to perform, I just got used to the fact that before each performance, I would get nervous, and that this was "nothing special". I learned to honor all that Life Force. When I would later be riding a wave of energy while singing or playing the drums, I knew I was riding that same "nervousness".

I appreciated making a new friend today. Afterwards, I walked down the hill to the library and sat on a bench outside. Today I feel something bursting inside of me. It can only be called love, and yet, it is not the result of a romantic encounter. It's strong and vibrant and essential to it is a bit of sadness, which makes it a bittersweet kind of love. Pema Chodron, the great Tibetan teacher (by the way, of course, she is also Jewish), calls this boddhicitta. She writes:

Boddhicitta is the rawness of a broken heart. Sometimes this broken heart gives birth to anxiety and panic, sometimes to anger, resentment, and blame. But under the hardness of that armor there is a tenderness of genuine sadness. This is our link with all those who have ever loved. This genuine heart of sadness can teach us great compassion. It can humble us when we're arrogant and soften us when we are unkind. It awakens us when we prefer to sleep and pierces through our indifference. This continual ache in the heart is a blessing that when accepted fully can be shared with all.

Last night, I went to see a production at the Guling Theatre in Taipei. It was Kafka story performed in Chinese. With puppets. I have to say, it was truly fucking strange. I was impressed by the puppetry. Amazing to see four or five puppeteers dressed in all black, walking around controlling a puppet. The puppet comes alive. It's not any one of the puppeteers, but all of them.

I met my friend Caroline's roommate, Janaki, last night. They lived together in Paris. She does theatre all over the world. So many people in Taiwan and around the world, working jobs they hate, slaves in this humungous jail we call "capitalism", and they can't get out. What's worse, they try to convince themselves to feel good about it. (If you'd like to hear American comedian George Carlin talk more about this, click here.) It's life-affirming to meet someone like Janaki.

Enjoy your day.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Only Don't Know

"So I ask you: what are you? You don't know; there is only "I don't know." Always keep this don't know mind. When this don't know mind becomes clear, then you will understand."
Zen Master Seung Sahn

Walking up the mountain from school, I remember the words of Seung Sahn, "Only Don't Know". Americans always look for a solution, an answer. I think everyone does this, everywhere in the world, but he was teaching Americans when he came to the States in the early 70s. The greatest Zen master in Korea comes to Rhode Island and works for a laundromat. And he teaches one thing: "Only don't know!"

How can I let go of my seeking to know the answers, to hold onto something? When I am suffering it is because somehow I am not comfortable with what is actually happening. I'd like to change it.

Tonight I go to sleep, okay, for once, with not knowing.

Monday, September 18, 2006

The Lame Goat






Today, a Rumi poem comes to my mind. It's about a goat. I think you'll like this one:




The Lame Goat
(translation: Coleman Barks)

You've seen a herd of goats going down to the water.

The lame and dreamy goat brings up the rear.

There are worried faces about that one.
but now they’re laughing,

because look, as they return,
that goat is leading!

There are many different kinds of knowing.
The lame goat’s kind is a branch
that traces back to the roots of presence.

Learn from the lame goat.
and lead the herd home.

I've always identified with the lame goat. Maybe we all need permission to be who we are. We live in a world full of ideals. We live in a world of lies. Everyone's trying to attain the unnatural, and when the shit hits the fan, many wonder why.

This is the nature of reality, that's why!

Wait, it sounds like I am being pessimistic. No, it's not that shit spewing from a fan represents reality. Perhaps it's just that we build imaginary fans made out of our expectations, and when they spew shit, we are surprised.

Sometimes, when we drop those expectations, life gets a little easier, a little more real. It's like when you go backpacking in the mountains for a long weekend. You recalibrate. You start getting used to not being able to turn on the lights with a switch. You get used to the uphill hiking. You start paying attention to where you get your water from. Taking a shit is a little more complicated.

I'm not saying modern technology isn't wonderful (it's pretty cool), but how can we stay in touch with the nature of reality, with who we really are, in the midst of it?

As much as I like writing about this, I wish I could say that I've got this whole way of life down, but, alas, I am just like everyone else. I've got my expectations. I can't help but try to attain some ideal at times. I try to "achieve" things. I fail. I feel a little lame, like that goat.

The Dao De Jing talks about this, too. Check out chapter 20:

Being different
(translation: Ursula LeGuin)

How much difference between yes and no?
What difference between good and bad?

What the people fear
must be feared.
O desolation!
Not yet, not yet has it reached its limit!

Everybody's cheerful,
cheerful as if at a party,
or climbing a tower in springtime.
And here I sit unmoved,
clueless, like a child,
a baby too young to smile.

Forlorn, forlorn.
Like a homeless person.
Most people have plenty.
I'm the one that's poor,
a fool right through.

Ignorant, ignorant.
Most people are so bright.
I'm the one that's dull.
Most people are so keen.
I don't have the answers.
Oh, I'm desolate, at sea,
adrift without harbor.

Everybody has something to do.
I'm the clumsy one, out of place.
I'm the different one,
for my food
is the milk of the mother.

Stephen Mitchell translates the last line: "I drink from the Great Mother's breasts." I like it.

Here it is in Chinese:


绝弃令人烦恼的死知识, 作自己想作的事, 有何不好? 善与恶又有什么差别?
如果只把知识当做登向士途的台阶, 那么读书就变成与个人荣辱紧密相关, 那么读书确实令人生畏, 也确实不可不畏。大道与世俗相差太远了!
大道是这样宽广, 而人们却熙熙攘攘的挤在一条仕途的小路上, 如享太牢, 如春登台。只有我恬淡无动于衷, 好像一个失落的婴儿, 若无所宅。
众人都有怀有志, 盈溢胸心的样子。而我却是廓然无为无欲, 若有所失的样子。我真是愚人的心肠啊! 心中沌沌然然。世人都光耀自炫, 而我却昏昏昧昧。世人都精明机巧, 而我却无所识别的样子。一边静的像海似的, 另一面却像不止的飙风。别人都好像很有作为, 唯我不求上进。我同世人不同, 追求道的生活。

Today's toast is to the lame goat and the wise sage. You both are like Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski, ever inspiring me to let go, stop trying to achieve anything, and just let reality prevail. Allowing me to get out of my own way.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

我的政大同學 = First Party with Classmates


上個星期五我跟我同學一起去師大夜市吃晚餐. 以後去吧喝酒.我覺得我們玩得不錯.

我的中文還很爛.我有一位新中文老師,叫雲彤.她七歲.她很可愛,也很聰明.我希望她不會看到這些句子,一定錯了!












After a couple of weeks of school, I invited some of my classmates out for a night on the town. 





A group of us went to the night market on Shida Street last Friday night. Everyone had a great time. Kikuye and Chisaku are from Japan and promised that I could visit them in Japan anytime I want to. Right? On the right is Kehan, from Taiwan, who learned his English in London.











We had some beers at a bar afterwards and played some pool. Gary, on the right, is Taiwanese and played some excellent pool. My friend on the left is half-Japanese and half-Chinese and should definitely either become a rockstar or a famous Japanese movie star. The woman in the center is either or a friend of Gary's friend Edwin or crashed our party, which didn't really bother any of us.


Click here if you want to see more photos(看多照片).

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Things Change

There is hope for me yet. The last few days, I've been, let's say, "pensive", and that's been reflected in my last few posts. Talking about cats and butterflies, you know.

Another way to put, I've been overwhelmed by the sheer stimulation of being in Taipei again. About 96% of that stimulation comes from the constant inflow of Chinese. I carry an electronic dictionary with me wherever I go and am looking up characters on the bus, at restaurants, at the supermarket, everywhere. (By the way, I would really like to know what those signs that are posted above the urinals say, exactly.) I go to Chinese class every morning, which I am happy to say, is challenging, and I study in the afternoons, sometimes for three or four hours.

Another 3% comes from this very social side I have, let's call it the Gemini part of me, that is making lots of friends. I try to cultivate these new relationships, and stay in touch with the friends I made here the last time around (although most are wondering why I live up on the mountain behind Zheng Da).

What about the other 1%? you're asking. I think that comes from the strange electronic music that comes from the garbage trucks in Taipei (and no, it's not "electronica"). They play this weird song to announce that they are coming to your neighborhood, and everyone is waiting outside with their bags of compost and plastic and trash and paper, asking each other "How's business?", or "How's that son of yours?" But in Chinese. It's subtle, but I think most people would agree that this electronic song that comes from the garbage trucks does cause extra, sometimes excessive stimulation, here on the Ilha Formosa.

However the numbers work out, all I can say is that all of this stimulation has made for one overstimulated Jewish Chinese Taipei Boy.

Today, however, things changed. After class, I met my friend Michael the acupuncturist, from Seattle, who e-mailed me yesterday and told me he is in Taipei. He invited me to lunch with his 97 year-old Chinese Medicine teacher. We met at Dr. Zhang's clinic in Ding Xi and chatted in the front of his storefront office while waiting for him to finish seeing patients. We tried to involve an innocent Chinese bystander in our conversation and were successful. Michael never fails to blow away locals with his command of Mandarin and his knowledge of Taiwanese culture.

Dr. Zhang finished with his last patient, and so we began to get ready for lunch. With umbrellas in hand we headed off to lunch in Ximending, a bustling section of Taipei where all the high school kids gather to spend money on food, movies, clothes, and other stuff they probably don't need. You must go to Ximending sometime. There is this humongous television screen above the crowd, which combined with the lights and the noise, makes you feel like you are in a postmodern Asian movie.
When we arrived at Ximending, Zhang laoshi got out of the cab, weaved his way through the uniform clad kids, and headed quickly toward the restaurant, where we would soon be eating dim sum. I've never seen a 97 year-old man walk so quickly. My god, in case any of you are getting old out there (please e-mail me if you are not), I suggest you hang out with Zhang laoshi. If you pay very careful attention, I think it is possible to make some kind of magical paradigm shift.

I don't know if my Chinese is good enough to study with Dr. Zhang, but I know that this is not the first "fortunate meeting" I'll have in Taiwan. In Chinese, this is called yuan fen (roughly translated as "affinity" or maybe "synchronicity"), and happens often here.

These meetings remind me that I am blessed, and like my friend Tracy, who is kicking ass in London says, "since you met me, you must have a lucky star over your head, because I am really lucky."

Today, the fall semester began for regular students at Zheng Da (mine started last week).
Today was also the first day for many clubs, and so I got to decide which club I would like to attend. At first, I thought I would attend the ballroom dance club, but I watched them perform last week, and since the guys all danced like girly-girls (sorry, but it's true), I decided to join the aikido club on campus.

I did aikido when I lived in San Francisco in my early twenties, and was very devoted, going to class at least three times a week for almost two years. I studied with a well-known teacher in California who brought aikido back from Japan after he studied it with O'Sensei, the founder of aikido.

Alas, I moved to Berkeley, across the Bay, and while I looked for a teacher I liked, I never quite got back into it, even though I missed it at times. I am finding that life has a way of doing this. You know, the whole "years going by quickly" thing.

It's been about a decade since I practiced. I'm in pretty good shape, so was able to physically keep up with class, but I found that I was a bit rusty on some of the techniques. These are techniques that I did hundreds of times and was tested on several times to get a couple of belts.

It feels like they'll come back quickly. Mostly, I loved the feeling of practicing again. Aikido was not only a way for me to get exercise, but it was (and is) a way for me to feel this energy we call qi in Chinese Medicine (ki in Japanese). Doing aikido is like dancing, and afterwards I feel light and happy and strong. Which is how I felt after our practice today.

For years after I stopped practicing aikido, I kept O'Sensei's calligraphy on my wall in my studio apartment in Berkeley. Even though I wasn't practicing on the mat, I still felt his influence on me. How could I blend with opposing energy instead of fighting with it? How can I keep myself and my attacker safe (instead of being "killed" or "killing")? These are what O'Sensei wrote about and addressed in his teaching.

So, O'Sensei, I'd like to make a toast to you: "Thanks for helping me out when I was just a kid out of college, and thanks for coming back into my life again today, as a kid back in college."

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

The Black Cat


Amidt the busy-ness of my life, studying Chinese, going out with friends, trying to fit in workouts and return text messages, there is another life happening. It's probably more real than the buzz, the static of everyday life.

I wake up this morning and open the shade. Looking at me is a black cat sitting on my window ledge, surely living comfortably in a world more natural and essential than mine. With all that time on his hands, his life is pure essence.

I smile at him and we lock eyes. He doesn't let go. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks. I go for a morning pee and return to the window. He is still looking at me.

"What are you doing?"

Monday, September 11, 2006

Thoughts on Love

I remember being in acupuncture school. My friend Chalita and I leaned up against the wall near the elevator during a class break and had a deep chat. We talked about love and relationships. "You know," I said, "here I am pursuing my dream, but I don't know if it's worth it without love."

Chalita lit up. "That's what it's all about. All of this is nothing without love."

I've been looking for love. Sometimes I have been too busy studying, or working, or surviving, or pursuing my dream, to look for love. And sometimes it just enters my life. Actually, that's the way it usually happens. They call it Grace.

We get this idea in Western society that if we will it, it most certainly can happen. I think this is perhaps true at times. But what happens when we let go of our plans and goals? Perhaps we can allow space for something bigger to enter our lives.

Many are busy looking for love. Others are busy holding onto something that they are trying to convince themselves is love.

I want to let go and let love enter my body like the ocean fills the sand.

Butterfly



I woke up this morning and saw a butterfly sitting at my window, quietly. Was she waiting for me to get up? Strange, my window was closed, but she was inside of my room. I approached her and she began fluttering her wings. "Oh, butterfly," I asked, "what are you doing in here?"

I gently took her by the wing, and in my boxer shorts, my eyes still half-open, I walked her downstairs and as I approached the door she flew out of my hand. "Wait," I said, "let me open the door for you." I opened the door and she flew out. She must have been so happy to return to where she belongs, among the lush green trees, the morning mist, the rushing of the creek outside my door.