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.