Peaceful Warrior

On Sunday, a group of us Zheng Da students participated in an aikido conference. What a gift this art is. In case you don't recognize me, I am the dangerous-looking guy on the left, looking like a young Steven Seagal.

In case you know nothing about aikido, it's a Japanese martial art that teaches one to harmonize with attack. We don't try to kill our opponent, but become more sensitive to him, blend with his attack, and ensure that both of us stay safe.

In case your attacker insists on continuing his attack, of course, then you are allowed to snap his elbow against your thigh. Just kidding. Sort of.

To sum it up, let me quote my first teacher, Bob Nadeau Sensei, who would say: "Under pressure, let things flow". I will never forget the hours of training in his dojo and all my aiki brothers and sisters there. To Bob, I send my most sincere thanks for sharing the art with me and so many others.

It's good to be practicing again.

凱元參加演講比賽

Hi everyone. On Monday, I participated in a speech contest sponsored by the Ministry of Health. The theme was health, so my teacher, Gao Laoshi said, "Hey, you're a Chinese doctor, you should partipate." I thought it would be a good way for me to practice my Chinese.

I wrote my speech about how Chinese Medicine can help students take care of their health, and decided to teach them a little about Five Elements theory. Most Taiwanese people have heard about the five elements, but they all know a lot more about computers, business, and KTV than they do about these old theories.

I wrote my speech in English first, and then translated it into Chinese. Of course, I asked a few of my Taiwanese friends to look at what I wrote so that they could help me correct my many mistakes.

Finally, two weeks before the contest, I had my speech written. But, then last monday, my teacher told me the speech was in a week, not in two weeks. I had gotten confused about the date.

So, I had a week to memorize my five minute speech. It was hard, but I did it.

The day of the contest arrived, and I thought the speech was clearly impressed upon my brain, but when I got up on stage, I had to pause because I got a little nervous. I usually don't get nervous when giving speeches.

Despite this, I still got second place. Fortunately, I guess, other students were also nervous, too. As I mentioned in a previous post, as I get older, Rumi's Lame Goat is has become my hero.

You know, worldly "wisdom" says "Be Number One." Spiritual wisdom says the lame goat, lagging behind, leads the herd home.

Here's my speech, if you can read Chinese.

中醫對學生健康的好處

各位評審老師,各位同學,大家好.我是姚凱元,我是一位美籍的中醫師.今天我要演講的題目是中醫對學生健康的好處.

中醫的歷史很悠久並且充滿智慧。因此,在短短五分鐘之內我沒有辦法給你們很完整的介紹,但我可以給你們一些以中醫為基礎的生活建議.

中醫說人的身體是外在世界的反映.中國古代的大師都發現世界有五個最基本的元素:金,木,水,火,土.這個理論就叫做五行.

五行對我們的生活有什麼幫助呢?我們的身體如何反映五行呢?讓我來告訴你們.

哪一個器官反映土呢? 就是你的脾臟,代表你的消化系統.

中醫說「脾主五臟」,是說如果你每天三餐吃得營養,身體就會很強壯.我有很多同學不吃早餐,中午也沒有時間可以吃飯,而且晚上都吃麥當勞,然後才抱怨,「為什麼我這麼累? 」 所以飲食很重要,不要忘記三餐都要吃得營養.

中醫也說「脾主思」,思就是思想的思.這對學生來說特別重要.一方面,思考要花力氣,所以一定要吃得營養.另一方面,如果你想太多或是念太多的書,都會對你的消化系統有不好的影響.所以念書的時候,每一兩個小時,就要休息一下.不要一邊看書一邊吃飯.而且,吃飯的時候不要急.

哪一個器官反映木呢? 就是你的肝.

中醫說「怒傷肝」,怒就是生氣的意思.我們都有過沒有辦法達成目標的經驗,然後覺得很挫折.這個情緒就會傷害你的肝.如何發洩自己的情緒呢?你可以跟朋友傾訴你的感覺.運動是個好辦法.罵妳的男朋友也是個不錯的主意(開玩笑!).

中醫也說「肝為血海」,這對女生特別重要.女生如果嘴唇蒼白,就表示血液中的營養不夠,我建議妳可以多吃肉,也要看醫生.

哪一個器官反映火呢? 就是你的心.

中醫說「心主神明」也說「心惡熱」.為什麼心臟會熱呢?喝咖啡,喝酒,和抽菸都是很常見的原因.如果病人一直都很緊張或睡不好,我馬上就會想到是因為喝咖啡,喝酒,和抽菸.

哪一個器官反映金呢? 就是你的肺臟.

中醫說「肺主外表」,外表是指免疫系統.容易感冒的人要怎麼強化免疫系統呢?第一,他們要吃的營養.第二,他們必須減少壓力.雖然冬天在診所裡常常看到很多感冒的病患,可是身體很強壯的醫師還是不會被傳染,是因為他們的肺功能很好.

哪一個器官反映最後的水呢?就是你的腎臟.

中醫說「腎主五臟的精」,精就是精華的意思.所以我們可以說腎臟是最根本的器官也是最重要的.

在診所,我們常看到很多老年人抱怨他們的腰很痛.中醫說「腰為腎之府」也說「久病及腎」.所以如果你年輕的時候不保養,老了以後就得到診所來找我.

希望我給你們的建議可以提醒你們注意到你們身體的健康.我的演講到此結束.謝謝各位.祝你們健康快樂!

Free Hugs

It's a beautiful spring day in Muzha. I get out of class at noon and walk down the hill to get some lunch. I see my friend Lara, a tall, dreadlocked hippie girl. She's got a beautiful smile and a tattoo on her ear. She could be from Berkeley, easily, but she's from Italy, and I always say a few words of Italian to her. "Come vai?" I ask when I see her approaching the piazza on campus.

I feel at home speaking with her, because I am also a hippie, though without the dreads or the tattoo. I've danced barechested in the desert, jumped out of an airplane, sang my heart out to a big crowd, painted pictures in cafes. We, the hippies, want free love, boundless self-expression, creativity, and freedom.

In Taiwan, I find an old part of me, very comfortable drinking tea and talking about the Dao, even willing to help people save a little face.

But, there's one thing that I miss about the Bay, that I don't tell my Taiwanese friends about. Lara and I say bye, we smile, and then something happens that doesn't happen much in this Confucian land. We give each other a big warm hug.

Yeah, Chinese-like Taipei boy is busted. Definitely homesick!




This is on the Berkeley campus, a few blocks from where I used to live. It makes me homesick. It makes me happy.

Special Note to Foreign Customers of China Trust Bank Taiwan

If You Look for the Fireflies, You will not Find Them

The other day, my friend Jennie invited me to go for a hike on Tiger Mountain, near Taipei 101, to see the fireflies.

We arrive at the foot of the mountain path, where there are loads of parents with their children listening to our guide for the evening. Everyone has brought flashlights to light their way as late afternoon turns to night. We're supposed to bring flashlights covered with a red filter.

"Why does it have to be red, not, say, green?" Jennie asks. I think she has a good point.

I've just had a long day. An obese Chinese boy of about eleven is blocking our way so we can't see our guids and his pictures of the fireflies. The boy is shaking his right leg. "Too much coke," I say to Jennie, pointing to his hyperactive leg.

There's a creek next to us, and I motion to her to let her know that I'd like to get closer to it. It's less crowded over there. I take a look. It is simply beautiful, full of ferns and rocks.

Jennie says we should ditch the crowd, and we start up the mountain by ourselves. I don't think I will miss them.

Finally, after only about twenty minutes, maybe less, we arrive at the top, where there's a beautiful garden. It starts to drizzle a little, and we find a small covered pavillion to sit under.

We're talking and then suddenly I see a firefly. A few fireflies give us a show for the next hour as we talk.

Firefly tourists comes in two's and three's, asking us where they are. Jennie exhibits the typical warm way of the Taiwanese when she gets up and shows them where to look. They look amazed.

"You know," I say, "when I was a kid, in the summer in Baltimore, we used to watch the fireflies, too, sometimes catch them and put them in jars. Except in Baltimore, you don't see six fireflies. You see 600!"

"Yeah," Jennie responds. "It's like snow. We don't see snow in Taiwan, so you can imagine if we saw just a few flakes, it would make the news and get everyone all excited."

More people come and I can hear them excitedly looking for the insects, but they can't find them. They are looking too hard. They want to see them, get a photo, perhaps a t-shirt, too, and then go on their way. Perhaps dinner awaits. They come and ask us where to find the fireflies and Jennie points out one in the bushes in front of us.

By now, it feels like the garden is ours, and I make a joke. "You see one firefly, that'll be 100NT... whoa another one, that'll be another 100NT!"

I turn to Jennie and say to her, in my best impression of Lao Zi: "If you look for the fireflies, you will not find them."

The hordes arrive with their red flashlights and the guide is lecturing. We finally find out what the red filter is for. Fireflies aren't sensitive to red light.

A mother sits down with her two daughters in front of us. The younger one looks at me a few times and when I catch her, she quickly turns her gaze and hugs her mom. Another supercute Taiwanese kid. She looks at me again and I make a face at her, hoping she will crack a smile.

The kids are running around, I don't think they're listening to their guide for the evening. Their parents have already gotten out the snacks and are feeding them. One kid is crying. A few others walk past me to check me out.

Jennie tells me the firefly guide is just repeating the same things over and over again.

Slowly, people trickle back down the mountain, and then they're gone. Only one lone plastic bottle of water left to indicate they've been here.

We keep talking, and an old Taiwanese man joins us to rest in the small pavilion. It's getting late, and I need to go to bed soon. We get up to go.

"No, no, you don't have to leave, the man says," assuming we are leaving because of him.

We slowly walk down, and I'm glad I've taken some time out of my busy Taipei life to see the firefly show.

Slow Walk Up the Mountain

Tonight, after studying at a cafe, I took a long, slow walk home up the mountain. Taiwan's spring is warm and humid, almost pleasant, giving hints at the scorching summer to come. Like a taller than average twelve-year old, giving us hints that very soon, he'll be NBA size.

I've got to memorize a talk I'm going to give in Chinese, so as I walk up the windy street to my house, it's a perfect time to practice. I turn to the lush foliage and the apartment buildings behind them and recite, 「各位評審老師,各位同學,大家好.我是姚凱元.」, waving my right arm oratorically to the tree on my right.

The floodlamps light the street and I look down and notice the most beautiful butterfly taking a nap on the sidewalk. I stop and look. Its wings are birch-colored and look like wood, with some small yellow and black spots. I am afraid it is dead. I have the urge to touch it to make sure it isn't dead. I'm like a kid. But the adult part of me knows better. I shouldn't disturb it.

A second later, I gently touch it's wing, and to my surprise, it starts to flutter and flies up into the bright streetlight above.

I keep walking and reciting and then see the big, scary-looking spider I see almost every day as I walk up or down the mountain. His body is about two inches long, and his legs make him about eight inches long. His legs are black and thin and look like they're made of metal. He's usually hanging out (literally) in the middle of his web when I see him in the mornings. But tonight, he's walking. Maybe these creatures are nocturnal.

He's walking slowly across his web. Is he picking up his day's food? I look more carefully and I see the light as it reflects off the gossamer threads. After looking for a few more seconds, I realize I am watching a spider construct his web. He is walking and spitting out more thread, making his flycatcher more intricate and efficient. It's all perfectly geometric and I wonder, how does he know how to space the threads so evenly?

I think of the experiments researchers in the 70s did with spiders, giving them LSD. Perhaps they wanted to see if the arachnids might express some kind of creativity. I bet they thought the spiders would spell words with messages like, "Make love, not war."

Then I think to myself, that wasn't a really nice thing those acid-licking hippies did to those poor spiders. And I don't know if those pictures of acid-influenced spider webs in psychology textbooks really serve any purpose besides making kids say, "Hey, look at the webs that spiders on acid build, dude."

I think I should let the spider work, maybe he is getting nervous with me watching, so I continue up the mountain, reciting my Chinese: 「我是一位美籍的中醫師.今天我要演講的題目是中醫對學生的好處.」

I am getting close to my little studio on the hill, and I see the neighbor's golden retriever on the lookout in front of their shack where they sell bing lang, drinks, and vegetables that they grow on their plot across the street.

The dog sees me and he's wagging his tail. I've never pet him before, but he's seen me standing in front of his house as I am waiting for the bus. Last week, I was talking to his owner, the twenty-five year-old son of the old Taiwanese lady who lives there, while he was "playing" with the dog. He would tie a small towel tightly on the dog's head and watch as the poor dog tried to remove it with his paws. Then he threw slices of white bread at the dog, which the young dog gladly caught and ate. I didn't know dogs liked white bread so much.

As I walk by him, I say hello, but I don't walk up to pet him, because I've never pet him before and I don't want to freak him out. You have to be careful with some dogs in Taiwan. They'll bite. Maybe they're not living the suburban life of ease that dogs in the US live. Maybe there's a lot of prozac in the water supply in the States, which has a sort of peaceful, sedative effect on those American doggies.

So, I say goodnight to him and smile. He looks aways and then suddenly runs up to me. I extend my hand and he licks it. I know he's in a good mood, even without the prozac from the United States, and I pet him. By this time he is jumping on me, and his older brother comes out and wants to play, too. The younger one wants to play a little rough, and I am happy to oblige for a minute. He must have had a boring day.

Time for me to head up the path to my room. I'm not rich, have no status, a 30ish American acupuncturist studying Chinese with a bunch of 23 year-old Japanese and Korean kids in Taiwan, far away from my home in the States.

But tonight, I feel at home in the world.

Lian Wu Guarantee

This morning on my way to class, I stop at the local supermarket to pick up some fruit. Something tells me I need a little fruit with my scrambled egg sandwich today.

I walk into the supermarket. It is called "Your's Mart". All the foreign students at my university know about "Your's Mart". If you want to buy peanut butter, you have to go to "Your's Mart".

I think they named it "Your's Mart" on purpose, because they want to compliment people in an indirect way. So Taiwanese, always complimenting everyone. So, the message is "Hey, You're Smart!"

Thanks.

I walk to the fruit section and pick up a package of lian wu (in English, "wax apple", but if you don't live in Taiwan, that probably doesn't help).

As I walk to the register to check out, I notice the package's plastic wrap has a sticker that says : 不甜包換 (If they're not sweet, you can return them). The lady rings me up and as she does, I ask her, "If these lian wu aren't sweet, can I return them?"

She looks at me in a very serious Taiwanese face that says, "Oh sheesh, you must be kidding me, Mr. Adoga (that's Taiwanese for foreigner)!" She then notices that I am looking at the sticker on the package and looks up at me and cracks a smile.

Oh my god, this is the second time in two weeks that a Taiwanese employee at a store realizes that I am making a joke. I almost fall over in disbelief.

"Well, everyone has a different opinion of what's sweet, so we can't just let everyone exchange their fruit after they buy them. So, actually, you can't return them," she informs me.

I pay her, get my change, and start walking out. There are no other customers, and maybe she needs to clean the windows or something, so she follows me to the door.

"Oh, I got it," I respond. Everyone has a different opinion. Someone might bring in the fruit and say 'Hey lady, these aren't sweet' and then you might check to make sure they actually aren't sweet, but then maybe, in your opinion, they are pretty sweet. "

I can see in her face that she appreciates that I get it. "That's right," she says, as I smile and wave goodbye.

Welcome to Taiwan.