永恆的戀人

「我們每個人肯定都有一肚子的故事，可以告訴別人，只不過，我們未必清楚我們有那些故事，以及為什麼這些故事對我們而言很重要，寫作能夠幫助我們了解這點，以及幫我們搞清楚為什麼有必要趕緊將這些故事跟別人分享。只要我們認真想想，說不定我們的故事能幫助我們了解此生應修的課題。」- 瑪莉.派佛，用你的筆改變世界

記得我從小就喜歡作文課，功課常都得甲。現在想想不是我會寫，而是我會寫老師想聽的。一般，老師出了題目，例如「我的志願」後，通常都會給個「引子」， 擧些例子。我很小就學會了「順者昌、逆者亡」的道理。

直到初二（我下兩屆才有九年國教），有天不知為何作文功課竟然是自由發揮。我記得那是個周末，我也不知那來的靈感，竟寫了我這輩子第一篇小說，關於一個小孩離家出走，最後飢寒交迫死在外面，臨終時想著他的家人，懊悔萬分。我自己都感動的哭了，結果我得到的是「丙」，記不得是那位老師和實際的評語了，大約是「胡思亂想、誇張不實」之類的。從此我沒寫過小說。

大學我唸的是德文，但我最喜歡上的課是劉光義老師的國文課。喜歡老師冷面笑匠的幽默和憂國憂民的情懷，當然還有常被老師讚賞我「文筆犀利」的虛榮。 大學時代開始寫日記，飄泊這麼多年後，母親姊姊還幫我保留著，很感激。後來翻閱，全是令人汗顏的少女情懷，每篇都像剝玟瑰花辨一樣：他愛我?他不愛我?看完領悟到其實那份與生具來的不安全感並未因歲月而減少。

大學畢業後不久我就結婚去了澳洲。兩年後回到台灣在不同雜誌社(2001, 薇薇）做過編輯，但那時只覺得是我的外文能力和我在國外居住旅行的經驗讓我受雇，完全和文筆沒関係。後來在一個很偶而的機緣下受雇於一家美商公司的臺灣分公司，這是我人生的第一個大轉彎。
它開拓了我的視野，也讓我有機會在美國住了二十年。回想一下，那時工作領域中我最喜歡
的，除了產品開發，還是做公司和廠商的溝通橋樑。

後來重新開始寫作是2001年9/11世貿大樓事件後搬到華盛頓州鄉下的事了。鄉居生活其實很適合寫作，有一年我每天早上都寫三四個小時，但我不知道該如何和人分享，寫的東西也沈封箱底。後來很幸運的，免費的有機會上了六個學分的大學人文課程。這個課程譲我覺醒，發現自己對西方文化的認識竟是如此的膚淺和扭曲。另外一個收獲是課程中交的寫作作業都受到老師的嘉評，這是莫大的鼓舞，使我對自己英文寫作的能力愈加有信心。

2010年無心插柳，由圖書館借來一本傻瓜部落格指南，沒想到十分鐘我就變成部落客了。去年我又來了個生命大轉彎，搬回台灣定居。經過九個月的身心安頓最近在才在家𥚃裝了WiFi, 目前我是用我的iPad在寫。

最近我告訴一位朋友，情人來來去去，事業起起伏伏，唯一不離不棄，多次把我從絕望、悲傷、鬱悶中解救出來的是閱讀和寫作。她們才是我永恆的戀人。

後記：現在再加上新歡：畫畫

回家 Homecoming

我又回家了。 回到我長大的新竹，住在母親眷村改建的新公寓，離我出生已被拆除的空軍五村只有十分鐘。舊家部分變成了停車場，不久前搭了個牌樓。它一夜間出現，好像UFO。後來有演歌仔戲，聽說還是明華圓的，也有議員來演講。

十八歲離家去台北上大學好像飛出籠的鳥， 萬萬沒想到四十年候我又回到原點，想的還是同樣的問題，我是誰？

我過去二十年住在美國，過去的部落格是用英文寫的。不光是語言文字，我的思考和夢也不是單語的。這一奌就令人抓狂了。用英文寫還是中文寫?我的讀者是誰?著名而且是我崇拜的作家哈金在「他鄉寫作」一書中寫到，＂作家在開始其職業寫作生涯時往往反覆自問亞里斯多德提出的問題：為誰寫?以什麼身分寫?為誰的利益而寫?在這三個問題中，「以什麼身分寫作」最令人困惑，因為涉及到作家的身份認同及傳統，而這兩者往往不以人的意志決定，隨時都在改變。"

所以，身分的問題就留給時間吧。為誰寫和為誰的利益而寫比較好回答?誠實地說，為我自己。但是我希望，由閲讀中你偶而找到自己的答案。

I am back home again, back to Hsinchu, living with my mother, at an apartment 10 minutes from my birth place, an air force compound. Part of it has been converted into a parking lot. Awhile ago, a ceremonial temple-like structure was erected overnight, like an UFO. They invited a Taiwanese opera troup to perform and some politicians gave speech at the show.

When I left home at 18, I was like a bird out of a cage, 40 years later, I am back to where I started, asking the same question - Who am I?

I lived in the United States for the past 20 years. My past blogs were written in English. To write in Chinese or English has been always an issue. Ha Jin, a Chinese writer who writes mostly in English, wrote in his book "The Writer as Migrant" , "When a writer started his writing career he repeatedly asked himself three Aristotlen questions: Writing for whom? Writing from Whom? Writing for
whose benefit? ...Among these three questions, Writing from Whom is the most difficult to answer as it involves the writer's identity and tradition, neither was a matter of will, and it changes with time."

That being said, I will leave the question of identity to time。Whom am I writing for and for whose benefit? Honestly? I am writing for myself, and hopefully once in awhile you find your own answers from reading my writing, like I have done with gratitude from many, many of the writers before me.

In the Family of Things

Just finished reading Anne Morrow Lindbergh's "Gift From the Sea".  Her name came to me because she was quoted by Erica Bauermeister, a wonderful Northwestern author I recently stumbled on. I didn't realize Anne was Charles Lindbergh's wife until I read "About the Author" at the end of the book. Knowing that didn't change anything, in fact ignorance is a bliss in this case, my mind wasn't contaminated. Her writing "stood on its own feet" as she encouraged women to do in their relationships, and she claimed that it is essential women carved out time for solitude, because "women need to come of age by herself - she must find her true center alone." 


I was shocked to learn that Gift from the Sea was written in 1955, 56 years ago. It boggled my mind that while Ann Morrow Lindbergh was an American mother of five who lived in the suburb of Connecticut, I was a tiny-winy one-year old girl living with my Chinese parents in Hsinchu, Taiwan. Neither of us knew our paths would cross one day and there existed a kinship between us.    


Yesterday I stumbled on another book by accident(or was it?), "They Say I Say, the Moves that Matter in Academic Writing." I was actually using the book as a prop in my Chinese Language class at the Y, and the page opened to a hard-to-ignore paragraph highlighted in dayglow orange, "Writers who cannot show that others should care and do care about their claims will ultimately lose their audiences' interest. This answered why Ann Morrow Lindbergh's book captivated my interest 56 years later - she cared and she convinced me that I should care too. 


It's not the first time that books show up in my life and answer the questions I happen to be asking at the time. I have not written for a while and the blog has become a place for announcements. I'm going back to Taiwan for three months this winter and I've been thinking whether I should continue writing.  Ann Morrow Lindbergh convinced me good writing transcends time and space; and the They Say I Say book reminded me I should only write what I really care about and write it well.


This morning I saw one of my niece in Taiwan thanking my other niece on Facebook - "Thank you for being in my life." It made me so happy and proud to hear that, not only because I am their aunty but because I felt this ageless bond between women.  In the past year, I've been reflecting on the legacy of women in my family; I was thinking more about older women like my mother and sisters, how they live their lives before and after their men are gone. Today seeing my nieces comments and sisterly bond on Facebook reminds me again why I love and care about women. Before I become the next Amy Tan, here is a great poem to share with you. May you find your place in the family of things. 


Wild Geese


You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting .
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting ---
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.


- Mary Oliver 

A Morning Prayer

It all started with deadheading a rose. The petals were falling apart in my palm, not good to put in a vase as I originally set out to do. I couldn't bring myself to throw the delicate, lightly scented, soft yellow faint pink edged petals on the burn pile. I came into the house and filled a big glass bowl with water. As I tore off the petals I started chanted "南無阿彌佗佛” (The Reverent Buddha). I didn't know why. I am not a practicing Buddhist and I am drawn to the teachings of all spiritual traditions. The simple act of gently separating the petals and watching them floating on water must have evoked a sense of scarceness and reverence. Maybe that is what a prayer means.

Next to the rose a lupine branch was knocked over, so I pruned it and thought of making a small bouquet. Purple would go with the flaming orange crocosmia which was in full bloom. I thinned a few stems that were crowding each other. Now it needed some filler; tiny cheerful white and yellow fever-fews with their chrysanthemum leaves would be perfect. Then the most perfect poppy caught my eyes. It's blood red paper-thin petals and intricate, complex black heart  took my breath away. I came inside again and looked for a complimentary container. A slender blue chalice Curt recently made was calling out to me. When the flower married the chalice I was moved by the union of the creation of men and the creation of God. Again, I am not a Christian either but I don't know a better word to communicate what I mean. Few days ago I posted some photos of the garden in the morning mist on Facebook. It received a few responses. I think what moved people was the awe and delight in creation, whether it's God's or men's. But unlike Oprah, I don't know that for sure. What I am sure is that I was the witness at the right place, at the right time.

Once Upon a Time, in America

I love traveling - getting out of the wonderful cocoon of Northwest woods and into the vast wilderness of a land which I sometimes conceptualize as "America" but still am puzzling by it.  This is my third road trip and each time I returned with mixed feelings of awe, pride, wonder, joy, sadness and injustice. While I enjoyed the repeated and serendipitous opportunities to travel across Mei Guo (the beautiful country in Chinese) and being transformed by the experiences in un-explicit ways, I can't help noticing how few people of color were on the road, and wonder about "the land of the free" once again. I'm not too naive to know that with the economy and gas price close to $4 a gallon a road trip is a luxury for most people. But it is not just about money and race, it is about opportunity or the lack of it.

I was invited on all three trips by friends who fortunately seemed to enjoy my company and sharing of driving and only twice I was made to feel unwelcome - a motel in Dickinson was full (it was a Friday night but Dickinson sure didn't look like a weekend tourist destination to us) and the kitchen of a bar in Casselton was closed to serve us lunch. (It was 2:30 p.m. but we saw other customers eating.) We ended up camping at the parking lot of WalMart in Dickinson but the vibe made us decide to "get out of down" at 2 a.m. in the morning. In case you are wondering, both towns are in North Dakota. 

When I took my first trip with a girlfriend from Minneapolis to San Diego I was living in a rough inner-city neighborhood. There were many section A housing; drug, prostitution, noise, garbage was a daily fare. When I was transported from all my worldly worries and man-made ills by the ancient mountains and mystical canyons in Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico, I was also acutely aware of the unjust missing opportunities of my neighbors - I wonder given the opportunities to "see" America in its nakedness and full glory, would they develop a love and pride for the land as I have. I think it will change how they see their country, and more importantly, it will change how they see themselves.  

"..that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom" - Abraham Lincoln, The Gettysburg Address

The Freedom to Ride 

Access Denied

What is Around the Corner for America?

  

Chinese Idioms II

Few friends seemed to enjoy my blog yesterday on Chinese idioms, like all writers we are inspired by our audiences. Here are two more. I hope my perspective brings you some amusement and insight, again I'm not speaking as an expert in Chinese language and culture but as  an explorer in languages and a story teller.  


"Feng Hua Xue Yue"(風花雪月）, literally are four characters in Chinese which mean "Wind, Flower, Snow, Moon" in English. These four words are probably the most frequently-used words in Chinese poetry, to quote just a few: 


When intertwined branches bloom
the jealous wind and rain strip away their flowers.." - Chu Shu-Chen, Falling Flowers 


"The plum without the snow isn't very special
and snow without a poem is simply commonplace..." - Lu Mei-P'o, The Snow and the Plum II


"For a winter-night guest tea serves as wine
boiling on a wicker stove as the coal turn red
outside the window is the same old moon
but with plum blossoms now it's different." - Tu Lei, Winter Night


Note: These poems are quoted from The Poems of the Masters translated by Red Pine. (Also known as Bill Porter, who was instrumental to our decision in moving to the woods near Port Townsend.) 


Now you probably get an inkling that "feng hua xue yue" means something poetic in Chinese and you are right.  "Feng Hua Xue Yue" is used to describe a kind of romantic and poetic way of life. For instance, my Chinese friends who visited me would say after living with us for a few days : "You are living the feng-hua-xue-yue-style of life."  There was always envy in their voice but the tag line that followed told another story, "I don't think I'm ready to give up and live like this yet!" At the beginning I often felt I somehow had to defend my "living like this", but now I just say, "It is not for everybody and we walk our own paths." This reminds me when a friend of mine decided to become a Buddhist nun. All her friends and family were trying to persuade her not to "give up" on her life. She was very relieved by my congratulation on her decision and said, "You know most people can only see what I have got to loose, not what I have to gain." 


"Chai, Mi, You, Yan"（柴米油鹽）, literally mean Firewood, Rice, Oil, Salt, in Chinese it is used to describe the fundamentals and the mundane aspects of living. The words and the imagery they provoke are almost the total opposite of "Feng Hua Xue Yue." I admit I haven't quite figured out this part of life. I can find poetry in "chopping wood and carrying water" as long as I don't have to do it from Nine to Five. 






To be continued.

Chinese Idioms

I posted on Facebook few days ago about enjoying a private lesson with a student - "We drank tea, played with the calligraphy brush and talked about the sky (chat in Chinese). A friend really liked the phrase "talking about the sky" and asked me for more examples in Chinese. Here are a couple to start with; I've been wanting to write about them for awhile, so thank you, Kristine, for giving me an incentive. But be forewarned, these two I'm writing today are not poetic or even clever, what I'm hoping to convey is the strong emotional hold that language has on us, and hopefully by being aware of its power we use it more thoughtfully or reinvent it so it liberates instead of imprisons us.


1. "Bu Dong, Bu Xi"（不東不西）, Not East, Not West literally, is used to describe someone who is confused about his/her cultural identity. When I was in college I started to listen to rock 'n roll and hanged out with "foreigners". In the 70s Taiwan was still fairly conservative and because of martial law there weren't many foreign private companies or civilians. The foreigners the Taiwanese saw were mostly military personnel, either based in Taiwan or visiting for R&R.  So Chinese women to be seen with a foreigner often was regarded and treated as a prostitute without any discrimination. (It didn't matter I was wearing a T-shirt, jeans and flip flops.) When I went out with foreign exchanged students from my college, I got many dirty looks, rude remarks and a few near-missed spits, but what irked me the most was the condescending "bu dong, bu xi".  I still have issues with the phrase, maybe I'm still confused about my cultural identity! I think this phrase sounds especially vicious to me because it reflects a cultural chauvinism which I've fought against all my life. Taiwan has changed a lot and I didn't hear this phrase once during my recent visits, in fact, Taiwan today is not only embracing foreign and Han cultures but also Taiwanese, Hakka and Aboriginal cultures.




2. "Le Ji Sheng Bei"（樂極生悲）, Happiness Extreme Born Sorrow literally, the closest translation I came up with is "Curb your enthusiasm!". I remember growing up when my sisters and I were laughing and giggling, my father always "reminded" us, "Be Careful, Le Ji Sheng Bei".  My father was over- protective, like majority Chinese parents, but instead of encouraging kids to freely expressed their happiness, we learned that it was wrong to be "too happy" - something bad is going to happen if you are too happy.  Naturally this idiom can be interpreted and used differently - I do believe happiness and sorrow are two sides of the coin, or the white and black keys of a piano, as a friend quoted recently on Facebook. The Ying and Yang of emotions, the cycles of life.  How about saying "Bei Ji Sheng Le" when someone is going through painful losses - Extreme sorrow gives birth to happiness!


To be continued.