Be content

Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you.

Lao Tze

Woman is the Nigger of the World

Church always makes me very emotional. Today there was a sharing of struggles with body image. One woman after another shared their testimonies: so powerful, honest, heartbreaking. You could sense the solidarity of all women then. One said it well: women today are in bondage, internalizing pressures to be perfect. This drive turn strong, capable women into weak, anxiety-ridden girls. It makes women consumed with envy, insecurity, loathing and turns them against one another. We speak of women's lack of rights in developing countries, how it amounts to half of a population enslaved. But American women are enslaved as well, by outside forces that are explicit and implicit, that daily bombard us in all manners.

I think of the John Lennon song: Woman is the Nigger of the World

Woman is the nigger of the world
Yes she is...think about it
Woman is the nigger of the world
Think about it...do something about it

We make her paint her face and dance
If she won’t be slave, we say that she don’t love us
If she’s real, we say she’s trying to be a man
While putting her down we pretend that she is above us

Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is
If you don’t belive me take a look to the one you’re with
Woman is the slaves of the slaves
Ah yeah...better screem about it

We make her bear and raise our children
And then we leave her flat for being a fat old mother then
We tell her home is the only place she would be
Then we complain that she’s too unworldly to be our friend

Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is
If you don’t belive me take a look to the one you’re with
Woman is the slaves of the slaves
Yeah (think about it)

We insult her everyday on TV
And wonder why she has no guts or confidence
When she’s young we kill her will to be free
While telling her not to be so smart we put her down for being so dumb

Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is
If you don’t belive me take a look to the one you’re with
Woman is the slaves of the slaves
Yes she is...if you belive me, you better screem about it.

We make her paint her face and dance
We make her paint her face and dance
We make her paint her face and dance

I don't know if individuals alone can relieve themselves from a lifetime of painted faces. Do we need divine intervention to be transformed?

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

Romans 12:1-2

The Road Not Taken

My dad and I went on a walk today. I saw the leaves change color as though they were on fire: all shades of red, orange, yellow, purple, brown. I'm often taken back by how much beauty surrounds me. As we gingerly selected our path amidst twists and turns, muddy trails, fallen branches, forks in roads, I announced that I am not going to law school. Rather, I want to work as an environmental activist. I thought of the Robert Frost poem, which is never far from my mind.

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5 Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, 10 And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. 15 I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. 20

Pleasure and Sorrow

My friend told me about a tradition among the Greeks who would follow an idea through their lifetime: wrestling with and writing down their thoughts on the matter at different times. Reading Liz Gilbert's accounts into uncovering pleasure in Sicily, whose only successful business is the Mafia running the business of protecting citizens from itself, I am inspired to reexamine an older post into my heartbreak in Indo-China.

Throughout my time in the region, I lamented their state of poverty and hopelessness. But now I think of Liz's Italian ventures and Krsa's mustard seed. And I ask that if Sicilians can take pride and pleasure in living amidst corruption, deaths, the Mafia, could I also find small havens of joy in Saigon? If the idea that the appreciation of pleasure can be an anchor of one's humanity, can I connect to Cambodians in their delight as well as their sorrow? In place of pitying the woman who had no choice but to become a fruit vendor after the war ripped her life apart, could I instead see that selling the spiniest, smelliest, stickiest durian in town can be a source of pride in an environment where human dignity is in short supply. In place of cringing at the pending public health epidemic where dead meat, live fish, raw salad, fresh garbage, and open sewage are side by side, could I instead see the tantalizing array of aromatic foods, whose sales compose of banters and exchanges between regulars, reinforcing their connectedness. In lieu of bemoaning the under-employed young men lounging in the streets on a sweaty Monday afternoon, could I instead appreciate the circle of friends that surround them, each sipping a chilled coffee sweetened with delicate laces of condensed milk (even if the ice is made from undrinkable tap water).

In Sicily, Saigon, Phenom Penn: worlds of chaos, incompetence, broken promises, perhaps beheading a fish with perfection, making the thinnest rice noodles, drinking an iced coffee that cools your entire being are the only things to ground you in your humanity.

The activist in me is already throwing a fit at this apparent acceptance of grossly inhumane living conditions. However, I'd argue that dropping into a foreign culture and running around trying to improve material conditions at all costs can be disastrous. One looks at natives not as fellow beings but as children to be taught or objects to be bettered, mindsets similar to those of European missionaries in the 1600s. Of course, I do not believe in such a simple characterization of international development work. I still believe in its value, but only if it begins with an acknowledgment of our shared humanity: a recognition that we should grieve over common sorrows, but also to find pleasures where others find them.

Grinding

Here is some context for my previous post on the mustard seed.

I found out that I grind my teeth in my sleep (don't ask how). It's a sign of stress. Great, I am so anxious that even in sleep I engage in behaviors that wear away my enamel. Finally I find the cause of why for the past year my tooth cries in pain when in contact with cold drinks. Now instead of just worrying about my conscious worryings, I also worry about my subconscious worryings, wrecking havoc not only on my mental but also my physical health.

So anxieties seem all-consuming, swallowing up my entire being, throwing me into a vortex swirling towards earth's center, then my honed zen instincts kick in. They tell me to take a deep breath and become conscious of the mind full of illusions. They remind me that life is a series of ups and downs, each an opportunity to connect to others: the ultimate goal in anyone's life. So I take a deep breath and think of the mustard seed. I think of how I can reach out to another in pain (we all are in one form of pain or another). I will myself to think all shall pass and all shall be well. I try to tease apart reality from illusion, real from created fears, true from false thoughts, and conclude that all are false worries. Each can be viewed through a positive and hopeful lens instead of an anxious, fearful one. Now I just have to get my body to internalize my head's rationality.

Mustard Seed

May we realize that we are not alone in our suffering so that we may reach out to others in theirs. Just as the light in me honors the light in you, the pain in me honors the pain in you. Injury is a great teacher, so is sorrow. Let us view it as an opportunity to connect to fellow beings, healing ourselves in the process.

Our goal is not attaining the mustard seed but sharing and grieving with others in the never-ending search.

Krsa Gautami and the Mustard Seed

On day, when the rainy season had ended, Krsa Gautami, the wife of a rich man, was plunged deep into grief by the loss of her only son, a baby boy who had died just when he was old enough to run about.

In her grief Krsa carried the dead child to all her neighbors in Kapilavastu, asking them for medicine. Seeing her, the people shook their heads sadly out of pity.

"Poor woman! She has lost her senses from grief. The boy is beyond the help of medicine." Unable to accept the fact of her son's death, Krsa then wandered through the streets of the city beseeching for help everyone she met. "Please, sir," she said to a certain man, "give me medicine that will cure my boy!" The stranger looked at the child's eyes and saw that the boy was dead. "Alas, I have no medicine for your child," he said, "but I know of a physician who can give what you require. "Pray tell me, sir, where I can find this physician."

"Go, dear woman, to Sakyamuni, the Buddha, just now residing in Banyan Park." Krsa went in haste to the Nigrodharama; and she was brought by the monks to Buddha."Reverend Lord," she cried, "give me the medicine that will cure my boy!" Lord Buddha, Ocean of Infinite Compassion, looked upon the grief-stricken mother with pity."You have done well to come here for medicine, Krsa Gautami. Go into the city and get a handful of mustard seed." And then the Perfect One added: "The mustard seed must be taken from a house where no one has lost a child, husband, parent, or friend."

"Yes, Lord!" exclaimed Krsa, greatly cheered. "I shall procure the mustard seed at once! "Poor Krsa then went from house to house with her request; and the people pitied her, saying: "Here is the mustard seed: please take all you want of it.

"Then Krsa would ask: "Did a son or daughter, father or mother, die in your family?"Alas! The living are few, but the dead are many. Do not remind us of our deepest grief!"And there was no house but that some relative, some dear one, had died in it.

Weary and with hope gone, Krsa sat down by the wayside, sorrowfully watching the lights of the city as they flickered up and were extinguished again, And at last the deep shadows of night plunged the world into darkness. Considering the fate of human beings, that their lives flicker up and are extinguished again, the bereft mother suddenly realized that Buddha, in his compassion, had sent her forth to learn the truth.

"How selfish am I in my grief!" she thought. "Death is universal: yet even in this valley of death there is a Path that leads to Deathlessness [for] him who has surrendered all thought of self!" Putting away the selfishness of her affection for her child, Krsa Gautami went to the edge of a forest and tenderly laid the dead body in a drift of wildflowers.

"Little son," she said, taking the child by the hand, "I thought that death had happened to you alone; but it is not to you alone, it is common to all people."There she left him; and when dawn brightened the eastern sky, she returned to the Perfect One.

"Krsa Gautami," said the Tathagata, "did you get a handful of mustard seed from a house in which no one has ever lost kith or kin?"That, Lord, is now past and gone," she said. "Grant me support."

"Dear girl, the life of mortals in this world is troubled and brief and inseparable from suffering," declared Buddha, "for there is not any means, nor will there ever be, by which those that have been born can avoid dying. All living beings are of such a nature that they must die whether they reach old age or not. "As early-ripening fruits are in danger of falling, so mortals when born are always in danger of dying. Just as the earthen vessels made by the potter end in shards, so is the life of mortals. Both young and old, both those who are foolish and those who are wise - all fall into the power of death, all are subject to death.

Of those who depart from this life, overcome by death, a father cannot save his son, nor relatives their kinsfolk. While relatives are looking on and lamenting, one by one the mortals are carried off like oxen to the slaughter. People die, and their fate after death will be according to their deeds. Such are the terms of the world. "Not from weeping nor from grieving will anyone obtain peace of mind. On the contrary, his pain will be all the greater, and he will ruin his health. He will make himself sick and pale; but dead bodies cannot be restored by his lamentation.

"Now that you have heard the Tathagata, Krsa, reject grief, do not allow it to enter your mind. Seeing one dead, know for sure: 'I shall never see him again in this existence.' And just as the fire of a burning house is quenched, so does the contemplative wise person scatter grief's power, expertly, swiftly, even as the wind scatters cotton seed.

"He who seeks peace should pull out the arrow lamentations, useless longings, and the self-made pangs of grief. He who has removed this unwholesome arrow and has calmed himself will obtain peace of mind. Verily, he who has conquered grief will always be free from grief - sane and immune - confident, happy, and close to Nirvana, I say."

Beauty XXV

All these things have you said of beauty.

Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,

But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,

But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

~Khalil Gibran

Before the Throne of Beauty XXVI

She replied, "Some goddesses live in the lives of their worshipers and die in their deaths, while some live an eternal and infinite life. My life is sustained by the world of beauty which you will see where ever you rest your eyes, and this beauty is nature itself; it is the beginning of the shepherds joy among the hills, and a villagers happiness in the fields, and the pleasure of the awe filled tribes between the mountains and the plains. This Beauty promotes the wise into the throne the truth."

Then I said, "Beauty is a terrible power!" And she retorted, "Human beings fear all things, even yourselves. You fear heaven, the source of spiritual peace; you fear nature, the haven of rest and tranquility; you fear the God of goodness and accuse him of anger, while he is full of love and mercy."

After a deep silence, mingled with sweet dreams, I asked, "Speak to me of that beauty which the people interpret and define, each one according to his own conception; I have seen her honored and worshiped in different ways and manners."

She answered, "Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive. When you meet Beauty, you feel that the hands deep within your inner self are stretched forth to bring her into the domain of your heart. It is the magnificence combined of sorrow and joy; it is the Unseen which you see, and the Vague which you understand, and the Mute which you hear - it is the Holy of Holies that begins in yourself and ends vastly beyond your earthly imagination."

Then the Nymph of the Jungle approached me and laid her scented hands upon my eyes. And as she withdrew, I found me alone in the valley. When I returned to the city, whose turbulence no longer vexed me, I repeated her words:

"Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive."

~Khalil Gibran

Detachment

Never be without remembrance of Him,
for His remembrance
gives strength and wings
to the bird of the Spirit.
If that objective of yours
is fully realized, that is
"Light upon Light"...

...But at the very least, by
practicing God's remembrance
your inner being
will be illuminated
little by little and
you will achieve
some measure of detachment
from the world.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi

Beauty

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

---

Again, Rumi

With That Moon Language

Admit something:

Everyone you see, you say to them, "Love me."

Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise someone would call the cops.

Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.

Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye

that is always saying,

with that sweet moon language,

what every other eye in this world is dying to hear?

~Hafiz

I Saw You

I saw you dancing last night
on the roof of your house

all alone.

I felt your heart longing for the Friend.

I saw you whirling

beneath the soft bright rose

that hung from an invisible stem in the sky.

So I began to change into my best clothes

in hopes of joining you,

even though I live a thousand miles away.

And if you had spun like an immaculate sphere

just two more times,

then bowed again so sweetly to the east,

you would have found God and me

standing so near

and lifting you into our arms.

I saw you dancing last night

near the roof of this world

~Hafiz

My Eyes so Soft

Don't surrender your loneliness so quickly
let it cut more deep.
Let it ferment and season you
as few human or even divine ingredients can.
Something missing in my heart tonight
has made my eyes so soft
my voice so tender
my need of god
absolutely clear.

~Hafiz

Guest House

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~Rumi

Joy and Sorrow chapter VIII

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was often times filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

~Khalil Gibran

Pain

And a woman spoke, saying, 'Tell us of Pain.'

And he said:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

~Khalil Gibran

Saving the World's Women

New York Times does not usually disappoint me. But this article is just ridiculous in how it spoke about empowering women in such a condescending, disjointed, unsupported way. Why is the series titled "Saving the World's Women" when you propose to say in women lie the solution to saving the world? And what are you trying to advocate Kristof? Microfinance, iodine, Heifer International? A magazine article is where you pick one theme and elaborate on it. Instead, you just put a bunch of news articles together. Lastly, where is your support for how these programs help women, data that is in addition to the emotional appeal of the 2 anecdotes?

These are the worst.

But it’s sometimes said in poor countries that the only thing worse than being exploited in a sweatshop is not being exploited in a sweatshop... Strange as it may seem, sweatshops in Asia had the effect of empowering women. One hundred years ago, many women in China were still having their feet bound. Today, while discrimination and inequality and harassment persist, the culture has been transformed. In the major cities, we’ve found that Chinese men often do more domestic chores than American men typically do. And urban parents are often not only happy with an only daughter; they may even prefer one, under the belief that daughters are better than sons at looking after aging parents.

WTF?! No, being exploited in a sweatshop where many women are sexually harrassed, unpaid, put in unliveable living conditions, etc. is like being exploited at home, in the sex or drug industry. It's EXPLOITATION!

Yes, a lot of things have changed in the last 100 years in China, and you hold sweatshop exploitation as the source of women's empowerment?!

The major city husbands and urban parents are not the ones with daughters in sweatshops.

How did you think it was a good idea to put 5 separate ideas into one paragraph?

Likewise, there’s growing evidence that a cheap way to help keep high-school girls in school is to help them manage menstruation. For fear of embarrassing leaks and stains, girls sometimes stay home during their periods, and the absenteeism puts them behind and eventually leads them to drop out. Aid workers are experimenting with giving African teenage girls sanitary pads, along with access to a toilet where they can change them.

No, the most recent research, including those my PhD friend is currently studying show no correlation between giving girls sanitary pads and increased attendance in Kenya or Nepal. The campaigns are more about Tampax and other companies expanding their businesses through getting into these deals.

For all the legitimate concerns about how well humanitarian aid is spent, investments in education, iodizing salt and maternal health all have a proven record of success.

What do you mean by "a proven record of success"? What are the strings attached to this aid? How are their negative impacts: strings attached (no large donor ever just want to "help people"), US corporations expanding their markets at the expense of distorting and eliminating local ones, 'proven record of' paternalistic / condescending / self-interest driven foreign policy effective?

Yes, women need to be empowered and talked about. But when you take an issue rampant with power imbalance, economic distortions, conflicting interests, geographical and historical legacies, etc. and address only the superficial issues, you are misleading readers Kristof. You make them think it is a naive, simple problem. If they are persuaded (I don't see how any thinking person would be), they may undertake actions that not only do not help, but exacerbate the problem. The end result is likely a worsened problem, and those who could have been reformers turned disilusioned and ineffective.

I suggest you rewrite this 8 page article focusing on one silver-bullet Kristof. Take your pick on how to realistically realize iodinized salt, obstetric fistula. Microfinance, sanitary pads, sweatshops, Heifer are out. What do you want us to get out of it? If you want us to write our congresspeople or pick up the Do-It-Yourself Foreign Aid kit that you advocate, say so. If you just want us to know about the issue, say that and don't present it in this naive, misleading way.

Special Issue - Saving the World's Women: The Women's Crusade

Descriptive vs Prescriptive Life

I read an article by a teacher explaining the lack of support and subsequent burnout that led her to quit her job in an inner-city school after 4 years.

I wanted to give her a hug. Yes, our education system is very broken, making victims rather than reformers of individuals.

She reminds me so much of me and my high-achieving friends who abandon the stress of the achievement-driven life for the guilt of the moral-driven life. The former is: "I want to be a lawyer, doctor, banker because that is what smart people do. It brings stability and prestige." But as we grow in our awareness of worldly inequalities, we are subsumed by guilt of our privilege and disdain in joining the system. So now we think: "I want to be a teacher, social worker, nurse: the positions that are so important and undervalued in society because I want to be the source of real, on-the-ground change. I give up myself to serve. I'm a martyr." These expectations coupled with a broken system, I can't see another result but burnout.

I wonder if there are classes on self-awareness. High-achievers are so into classes. If we were to be more descriptive rather than prescriptive of our desires and lives (hedonism still disallowed), we would be better suited to find and do the things we enjoy doing; whether our work brings contribution and recognition would not be THE factor that make or break us.

That acknowledgment of desires without immediately passing judgment will lead to more sustainable moral actions that are in accord with who we are. Inequality in education is America's greatest civil rights issue does not mean talented people have to work in education if they do not enjoy it. Factory farming is cruelty against sentient beings on levels never before seen, but people do not have to only buy free-range. There are countless ways to be moral. Choose the way that is aligned with one's character.

By Sarah Fine -- Why I Left Teaching Behind - washingtonpost.com

Farewell Party

欢送会 - 谢安琪

来的人已经来我们干一杯祝福你未来
有人说那年的耶诞派对同样精彩
有人说明天的时代要拭目以待
试问谁能残酷坦率表白当下的无奈

有人提议说来一个游戏预言的纸牌
很奇怪命运的轮胎任由扑克安排
欢迎会有新人到来欢送会有故人离开
不要猜为了喝得更愉快最好不要太明白

* 离开的要离开过去的喜怒哀乐喝下多少杯
多少祝福语一句一句走过人间的澎湃
成为你的未来
离开不留伤害香槟酒一瓶一瓶及友谊万岁
陪大家一起迎接生存永恒的常态
对明天忠诚的崇拜 *

醉下的醉下来晨曦都将至好好的感慨

多年来从青春少艾成为别人的贤内
明天你要扬帆出海明天我要多赚两块
更应该努力不懈的存在来年笑得更开怀

*repeat*

欢送你也不要悲哀
明天也会有欢迎会盛开

Farewell Party - a mandarin song

All the guests have arrived. We toast to your future.

Some say the past is glorious. Some say the future awaits.

Who can be frank about the present despair?

The turns in the wheel of life, no one can predict

Welcome parties bring new friends. Farewell parties see off the old.

In order to drink and be merry, better we are not too sober.

Tomorrow we go our separate ways.

But our good times will come again, so leave without sorrow.

We toast to our friendship and keep hope in the future.

We see you off with joy.

For tomorrow another welcome party will come.

Ébanonegra

Hace pocos, en un país lejano, vivía una mujer. Ella tenía pelo blanco como la nieve y piel negro como el ébano. Su piel era arrugada y sus ojos no eran azules. Ella tampoco era ingenua ni inocente. Era discreta por saliendo de la casa, andando la tierra y hablando con la gente. No le gustaba quedando en la casa limpiando y cocinando.

En un día que se nublaba por el smog, ella caminaba por una parquita para respirar aire limpio. En su camino, escuchó un grito de auxilio. Caminaba en la dirección del voz, encontró un caballero en armadura brilla atado a un poste; su caballo blanco retozaba en el césped seco y marrón. Había mucha gente que pasaban por allá pero ella fue la única que lo vio. Todos se ocupaban en sus propios pensamientos o iPhones a fijarse en otros. Ella se paró, habló con él y supo que era un príncipe azul y su padre, el rey, quería ahorcarlo. Como no había más bosques de la deforestación que ocurría bajo de su mala administración del reino, el rey tenía que ahorcar su hijo en una parquita.

“Mi papa estaba enojado conmigo porque siempre salvaba a las princesas bellas y no hacía nada de nada.”

“¿Por qué no hagas otra cosa con tu tiempo para que tu padre no te mate?”

“Porque quiero ayudar a la gente, especialmente a las mujeres. Ellas no se pueden ayudar a ellas mismas.”

Escuchando esto, ella se enfadó con él también y no quería ayudarle. Pensó que con pocas parquitas y muchas personas, mejor que el tonto se muriera. Además, no quería que el tonto fuera un rey en el futuro. Pero cuando salía de él, los ojos patéticos le siguieron; y ella reconsideró: “si yo tuviera sangre en las manos, no querría que sea de un idiota.”

Pues ella salvó al príncipe azul, pero le hizo que él prometiera que no salvaría a más mujeres pero se salvaría a si mismo de sus prejuicios. Él estaba feliz porque estaba vivo y le prometió que lo probaría. Ella estaba feliz porque hizo lo que podría. Se abrazaron, se despidieron y nunca se vieron otra vez.

¿Una vida mejor?

Jesús, un chico con una sombra de un bigote, habla en una voz suave y tiene una sonrisa tímida. Los ojos claros y el comportamiento inseguro son testigos de sus 17 años. Hace dos años que llegó en Columbus, Ohio atravesando por Tejas desde México. El viaje duró un mes. De los 20 compañeros que empezaron el viaje, la policía captó cuatro. El cruce le costó $2,700, un número astronómico para la familia de Jesús, campesinos de Toluca que es la 5ª ciudad más grande de México.

Cuando llegó como un chico de 15 años, Jesús encontró trabajo en un rancho por un tío, pero salió porque no quería trabajar más en un rancho. Después, salió de un restaurante chino por una pelea con otro mesero mexicano que según él, “fue muy feo.” Ahora trabaja 60 horas cada semana en la cocina de un restaurante mexicano. Dice que es muy feliz ahorrando dinero para comprar una casa en Toluca adonde quiere regresar en el próximo año porque según él, “Extraño a mi familia.”

La historia suya es tan común de los trabajadores sin documentos. Los americanos ven esta historia como otro ejemplo más de un sistema de inmigración que está roto. Cómo arreglar el sistema, cómo tratar a los trabajadores, con quiénes queda la responsabilidad y la culpa del problema son las preguntas que siguen e indican un polémico fuerte en los Estados Unidos. Un tema central del polémico es si los trabajadores tienen el derecho para entrar, ganar dinero y mejorar sus vidas en EEUU; y si los americanos tienen el derecho para decirles “No, no entren en nuestro país.”

De los dos lados, se suponen que los trabajadores sin documentos tendrán más oportunidades que si quedaran en MX y mejorarán sus vidas trabajando en EEUU. Pero analicemos esta suposición pensando en la historia de Jesús. ¿Mejora él su vida trabajando en EEUU?

Jesús sólo completó primaria. Dijo que su familia no tenía los $300 por año para la matrícula. En vez de continuar su educación, su familia pagó $2,700 para el cruce a EEUU. Suponemos que llevara $3,300 con él, lo cual es lo mismo de 11 años de las matrículas. Él hubiera podido terminar su licenciatura. Esta hipótesis tiene razón porque aunque la educación sale más caro con gastos de libros, uniformes, comidas y la inflación que devalúa $3,300 en el futuro, la familia podría ganar más en 11 años que en un año también.

Pero la realidad fue que la familia lo mandó a Jesús solo a EEUU a trabajar. Hace 4 años que él no está en escuela, y ahora no quiere conseguir su educación tampoco. En su adolescente, vive en un lugar donde no habla bien la lengua, no tiene ninguna familia, vive con otros adolescentes mexicanos quienes no tienen familias en Columbus. En vez de asistir la escuela, trabaja 10 horas cada día en una cocinera. En vez de sentirse conectado a una comunidad, confesa que la mayor desventaja de vivir en EEUU es, “Tengo miedo cada vez que veo la policía.”
Con el dinero que ahorró en EEUU, Jesús y la familia suya creen que él podría tener una vida mejor porque puede comprar una casa, casarse, contribuir dinero a la familia en Toluca. ¿Pero podría vivir mejor?

Sin educación ni orientación en sus años críticos, tal vez perdió más que ganó en EEUU. ¿Qué podría hacer cuando regrese? Sin educación, nunca podría conseguir un buen trabajo en MX ni EEUU. Los que dicen que se debe respetar el derecho de Jesús a trabajar y ganar en cualquier lugar que prefiera él, deberían pensar en el futuro de él. En respetar sólo su derecho a mudarse, no están pensando en su derecho a educación, a participación cívica, a información en cómo luchar por sus derechos. La conclusión no es que los inmigrantes no deberían venir a EEUU para mejorar sus vidas. Es que todos tienen que considerar todo lo que perdieron en venir a EEUU y si vale la pena.

Jesús, el que todavía parece como un niño en varios aspectos, cree que vale la pena.

“¿Recomendarías a otros que siguieran tu camino de Toluca a Columbus por Tejas?”

“Claro. Cuando regrese yo, vendrá mi hermano menor para conseguir mi trabajo aquí… para que pueda comprar una casa también.”

¿Quiénes son los tontos?

Recién, había científicos, activistas, académicos que nos llaman, a nosotros de los países desarrollados, a cambiar nuestras maneras de vida para proteger el medio ambiente. Y yo quiero anunciarles a todos de Uds. que ellos dicen mentiras. Ellos no saben de los nuestros valores. No creemos que el planeta sea conectado con nosotros ni que nos sirva.

La verdad es que el medio ambiente no tiene nada que ver con nosotros humanos. Es algo de árboles y osos polares. Son sólo ellos que necesitan la naturaleza. Para nosotros, estamos tan contentos viviendo en un mundo en el que los árboles son de plástico y los osos polares son de algodón. Los liberales hablan de estas cosas verdes y peludas para que nos emocionemos. ¡Pero pensemos!

No sólo es que los árboles, los osos polares y el medio ambiente no tengan usos estéticos para nosotros, no tengan funciones practícales tampoco. No necesitamos las selvas para atrapar el carbón dióxido. Ud. puede respirar el carbón dióxido que emiten mi cuerpo, mi carro, mi fábrica, y yo hago lo mismo para Ud. ¿Y por qué cuidamos a los osos polares? Los animales no nos cuidan y no tienen almas. No nos importa si los animales son extintos (osos marrones, osos negros, águilas calvas, etc.) ni si se multiplican (ratas, cucarachas, mosquitos, etc.). Las extinciones y las multiplicaciones demuestran una cosa: el poder de los humanos. Nuestra especie puede afectar a todas las especies del mundo. No sólo impactamos las especies animales y plantas, cambiamos el planeta. El aumento en la intensidad y en los daños posteriores de los huracanes, tsunamis, Niños y Niñas es una consecuencia de nuestras acciones también. ¡Conquistemos el planeta!

En 2050, cuando ya lo habremos derrotado y estaremos viviendo en entornos de cemento y asfalto, no nos arrepentiremos de haber dejado permanentemente nuestras huellas de carbón. Mirando a las palmeras de caucho y los cielos llenos de humo, nos felicitaremos de las acciones que hemos hecho para llegarnos aquí: en las compras de carros, ropa, juguetes; en las pérdidas de electricidad, papel, agua; en los lucros de las compañías de petro, jarabe de maíz de alta fructosa, poliéster. Nos celebraremos con nuestros niños en el estado que les hemos dejado el planeta. Para nuestras acciones, pagamos con la salud y la vida nuestras y pagará la siguiente generación con las suyas.

Son los ecologistas quienes son los tontos. Ellos no saben que creamos que el planeta es algo de otros: los árboles, osos, hippies. Los tontos tampoco saben que sólo pensemos en el presente. No nos importan las vidas de nuestros niños. ¡Vengan Los Niños!

Viajar Para Conocer Dentro y Fuera

Viviendo en casas sin puertas, sin duchas privadas, sin caras conocidas, Ud. me pregunta por qué a mí me gusta vivir en lugares diferentes. Viajo porque hay 196 países y quiero conocerlos. Me encanta conocer a las selvas en la Amazonia, al Río Mekong que pasa por 6 países y a los mahouts de la India. Me muevo porque hay miles de idiomas y quiero conocerlos. Me fascina como español e inglés representen el mismo concepto en maneras distintas. Me intriga que hayan ocho palabras para ¨primo¨ en mandarín. Me voy a los pueblitos, favelas, ciudades porque quiero conocer los cuentos de la gente allá. Las poblaciones que viven 3,000 metros sobre el nivel del mar, en el nivel del mar, en un desierto tienen sus propias historias.

Pero no solo viajo para conocer al Mundo, viajo para conocer al mundo mío, el que queda adentro de mí. Sin las distracciones diarias que me rodean donde yo vivo, puedo enfocar en la relación con mí misma. En otra lengua y otra cultura, me hablo con más facilidad porque no importan las palabras sino las emociones, la conciencia y otras cosas intangibles. Sumergiéndome en los Andes con sus montañas insuperables, sus lagos serenos, y sus arroyos transparentes, el Mundo se desparece, el ego se desparece, y me comunico con claridad. En estos momentos, me doy cuenta que el prestigio, el intelecto, el destino son triviales. Hablando con campesinos, nómadas, jefes, me doy cuenta que tengo mucho mas similitudes que diferencias con todos los humanos. No importan si ellos son indios, nigerianos ni rusos… Son las relaciones conmigo, con la gente, con la tierra que se componen una vida realizada.

Con cada viaje, conozco un poco más de otro lugar y otro aspecto de mí misma. Con estos conocimientos, me relaciono mejor con las personas, ideas, opiniones del todo mundo. Para mí, los viajes son como brillos a un espejo que poco a poco refleja dentro y fuera.

Beauty, Love, Rumi

From the Sufi mystic Rumi:

Mercy

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving — it doesn't matter,
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a hundred times,
Come, come again, come.

Beauty

Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.

There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

Self

Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

Everyone sees the unseen in proportion to the clarity of his heart,

and that depends upon how much he has polished it.

Whoever has polished it more sees more — more unseen forms become manifest to him.

The idol of your self is the mother of all idols.

There is no worse sickness for the soul,

O you who are proud, than this pretense of perfection.

Love

Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation?
What do you know of Love except the name?

When in Love, body, mind, heart and soul don't even exist.

To Love is to reach God.
Never will a Lover's chest feel any sorrow.
Never will a Lover's robe be touched by mortals.
Never will a Lover's body be found buried in the earth.
To Love is to reach God.

God

I searched for God among the Christians and on the Cross and therein I found Him not.
I went into the ancient temples of idolatry; no trace of Him was there.
I entered the mountain cave of Hira and then went as far as Qandhar but God I found not.
With set purpose I fared to the summit of Mount Caucasus and found there only 'anqa's habitation.
Then I directed my search to the Kaaba, the resort of old and young; God was not there even.
Turning to philosophy I inquired about him from ibn Sina but found Him not within his range.
I fared then to the scene of the Prophet's experience of a great divine manifestation only a "two bow-lengths' distance from him" but God was not there even in that exalted court.
Finally, I looked into my own heart and there I saw Him; He was nowhere else.

Where Religion Comes In

At the risk of sounding fearfully reductionist, I propose that the stages to a fulfilled life are foolishness, wisdom, love, hope. Not linear of course, more a spiral. Regardless, many do not get past the first.

We all begin as fools. Children’s greatest asset and liability is their ability to be educated, resulting in spelling bee champs or child soldiers. It's just that many stay at a child’s level with respect to passively taking in information. All their lives they think in accordance with their institutions of learning then wage earning. They rarely question why they believe something; it is sufficient that the Jones do it. Their lives compose of eating baby food someone else already chewed up, or memorizing handouts someone else already made. Minds are enslaved. And if that alone is not enough to make you think this is the greatest human tragedy, it also is the thing (perhaps only matched by evil) that causes harm worldwide. To not think is like shopping at Walmart. The dollar saved comes at the cost of lives, environments, communities, workers' rights worldwide. And that "bargain" is only a placebo effect to which they have been taught equals happiness. The effect wears off almost immediately, so they go back again and again in the same futile search for satisfaction.

To move past this conditioned human condition, we must think for ourselves. To think is the thing that makes us human, expounded since Socrates: "The unexamined life is not worth living." Descartes: "I think, therefore I am." Solomon: "Joyful is the person who finds wisdom, the one who gains understanding. For wisdom is more profitable than silver, and her ways are better than gold." We need to train our own minds: to question the consequences of driving a Hummer on the Iraq War, snorting cocaine on Latin American drug violence, eating high fructose corn syrup on farm subsidies... Hence thought is not only the quintessential human quality, to know how evil exists is the precondition to preventing it.

But wisdom alone is insufficient to sustain us. A whole life is one that loves and is loved. As Fromm points out: "Even if we knew a thousand times more of ourselves, we would never reach bottom. We would still remain an enigma to ourselves, as our fellow man would remain an enigma to us. The only way of full knowledge lies in love: this act transcends thought, it transcends words." To have a passion, connect with humanity, do no harm, we must live with a heart that is open. When we are filled with frustration and anger, it is love that carries us through. Wisdom makes us see that our lives are bound up with our fellow beings’. Love calls us to fight for their lives as we would our own.

Yet as Woodstock showed, love is not the answer to all our problems. It requires hope to be sustained. To truly know and love a world that is broken in so many places brings heartbreak and despair. It then is near impossible to have your strength come from the same source that is causing you so much sadness. So how do we maintain hope? Gramsci writes while being a political prisoner: “To maintain the pessimism of the intellect and optimism of the will.” This optimism is more likely obtained if you believe in a moral code, an all-benevolent Being of truth and justice; not in the sense that you will be rewarded but that you are not alone in your fights and tribulations. It is the one that Thoreau wrote upon and Martin Luther King drew on in their works of civil disobedience. There is a "higher law" that decides whether man-made laws are just or unjust. There is a force greater than you, than this world that is on your side. In this comfort lies hope.

"And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing." 1 Corinthians 13:2.

Anxiety Ridden Chinese

The Chinese are the most anxious people I know.

Why?

I hypothesize that it results from combining the worsts of capitalism and communism, with historical ties. Currently, China's economy is capitalist with no safety nets. Its politics are communist with no other parties or elections allowed. Chinese experience the "capitalist anxiety" where they focus on wealth accumulation and live in fear of anything that could wrong, taking wealth away. They also experience the "communist anxiety", always wondering if what they have accumulated will be nationalized.

The "communist anxiety" is a remnant from the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) where landlords were overthrown and all the country's land were collectivized. That Revolution morphed into State control of everything, where one's life was not her own choosing. For example, nearly everyone with a high school degree were sent to countrysides to be 'reeducated and reformed'. Merit-based education was banned throughout the country, taken over by propaganda-based education. In the countryside, it was illegal to raise your own chickens because they were not collective property. In 2009's market economy, where everything (economically, not politically) is to your own choosing, there is no wonder that people are so anxious to safeguard possessions against anything that might happen.

Here, my Marxist friend counters that it's not anxiety I'm describing, but materialism. People can choose non-materialistic pursuits. Yes, but choosing a path that is not the one that everyone else is doing requires critical thinking: the exact thing oppressed in schools and society. Seeing their hold on power cannot be sustained from isolation like North Korea's, the Chinese communist government opened its doors to capitalism in order to draw people's attention to material gains rather than rights and freedoms. With people focused on getting Mercedes, they have no interest in participating in social movements. Hence while it is possible to critically examine one's life in spite of hegemony, it is very, very hard.

On top of these historical, economic, political, social conditions, add in a long-standing culture valuing achievement and work ethic, and the Chinese become the most anxious peoples.

There is a deep psychological price to be paid in being the 'Economic Miracle' and 'Model Minority'.

The Nowhere (wo)man

Before Jane points out (rightly so) the bad attitude of the last post and how feeling at home is a choice rather than a pie that drops from the sky, I'm going to re-adjust that attitude myself after having vented.

I had a chance to catch up with my development/activist friends who have returned from similar year-stays/soul-searchings in Latin America, Asia, Africa. The consensus is that it'd take them a lifetime to assimilate into another culture: precondition for enacting change, and there is so much to done in the States. Hence they are going back to their most familiar, childhood communities to make change there. I agree. But I have no such moral sphere of influence. My childhood was spent in a half dozen communities: communist in Beijing, capitalist in Hong Kong, Muslim in Singapore, intellectual in Pennsylvania, WASP in Ohio... I felt no more tied to one than I did another. I have to now seek/make my own community not because that is the most effective way towards change, but because I now want to.

Pico Iyer described himself as "The Nowhere Man": an Indian who lived in America and attended boarding school in England. He savors being an Indian in Cuba, an American in Thailand, an Englishman in New York. I too feel a stronger bond to humanity than I do my countrymen, ethnic group, class because those distinctions aren't so clear for me. I am as pained by Cambodia's suffering as I am by those of middle America.

This may sound like the answer to world peace. But being in the minority, it too makes us disconnected from most of humanity. We become "Seasoned experts at dispassion, we are less good at involvement. We are masters of the aerial perspective, but touching down becomes more difficult. Unable to get stirred by the raising of a flag, we are sometimes unable to see how anyone could be stirred... Being part of no society means one is accountable to no one. If single nation people can be fanatical as terrorists, we can end up ineffectual as peace keepers."
(http://www.prospect-magazine.co.uk/article_details.php?id=4639)

That was the Pico in 1997. I heard recently he has found a home in Kyoto. This from a man who 12 years ago considered English to be his only home. (http://happydays.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/06/07/the-joy-of-less/?scp=2&sq=pico%20iyer&st=cse)

The me from one year ago is also different. I too want a physical community now, but it'll be a more difficult, limitless, stressful, and exciting search than most.

Not at Home

Grove City, Ohio: the town I spent the most continuous amount of time. I disdain it.

I went to 5 elementary schools in 3 countries and 3 languages, 4 middle schools in 2 states, 1 high school in Ohio, 1 university that was much more an intellectual than a physical home. Then there was the year in Latin America, New York, Asia...

The one Christian, suburbia HS may have been the most jarring experience.

In daily Bible classes where we categorized entire books and learned how to save people from damnation, students ask:

"Mrs. Jones, Bill asked me how I know God exists. It's not like we can see God."

"Good question Sam. Pay attention class. This is a question that nonbelievers will ask you.

(How is it that we are just now talking about this Q in 9th grade?!)
You ask Bill whether he can see the wind. No, but he feels its power. It's the same as God. You feel His effects."

(Why didn't we think of this before! Let's put up a God mill so we can measure His effects!)

"Today we are going to learn how to explain that the Father, Son, Holy Spirit are One. It's best to use examples when trying to explain complicated concepts (Ok, with you so far Mrs. J). You can compare it to an egg; the shell, white, yolk are separate entities, but together they make One egg. The Trinity exists as One. "

(Hmmm...What about egg white omelets?)

"We have to spend millions to build a bigger church with an McPlace playground, food court, salon, bookstore, latest surround sound system because we are attracting people to Jesus. For people to give Christianity a chance, they need to know Christians have fun!"

(Yeah, I say fuck the Poor too.)

I went through HS thinking I was the one who was crazy. Partly because I couldn't voice these thoughts as my family had to sign a contract that we would not interfere with the school's religious teachings. But I did learn a lot of religious things, such as the difference between Christians and Catholics. My Catholic MS and Christian HS education taught me that Catholic kids compete on how anti-establishment they are:
How many girls did you lay?
How much did you sniff?
Very Mean Girls style: How manipulative can you be to the new kid?

And Christian kids compete on how pro-establishment they are:
"I went to a church event everyday this week. Did you?"
"My parents and I have been at church everyday for the past month rehearsing for the Easter play."
"I'm a pastor's kid. We live at the church!"
"Charlene, did you make it to church last week?"
4 years at a Christian school and I never once went to a service. Being judged Monday through Friday, I needed a break on Sundays.

I support Christianity now actually. It means well: to prevent conflict. But it's as Gandhi said: "I might have become a Christian if it were not for the Christians."

Back in suburbia (where they sent their kids to war and elected Bush two terms), I realized I promised myself all those years ago that this will never be my home regardless (or because of) how well I know it. I will fly transatlantic, learn a new language, adopt a new culture before I settle on the familiar in Grove City, Ohio.

How Does Chinese Work

Many have been asking me how exactly does Chinese work? Laura's explanation is the best I've seen. Be prepared to be blown away. http://eastversusmidwest.blogspot.com/2008/07/exactly-how-does-chinese-work.html

Ok, now you see how Chinese is the opposite of the romance languages, linguistically. I want to add a bit about how it is also different in spirit. English is a language of precision. We have a noun for everything! Chinese has few nouns and lots of adjectives to construct new words. In Chinese, pumpkin=south melon, watermelon=west melon, gourd=winter melon, cucumber=yellow melon...

In turn, Chinese is a language grounded in poetry. In daily conversation, people refer to poetry and literary works thousands of years old. English's precision helps us understand what the other is talking about: biscuit v cookie, bungalow v house. Chinese's wide use of references and colorful adjectives help other Chinese know exactly what the other is saying.

Day to Day in Rural China

A lighter post from when I lived in Tibetan China: a list of things I did in no particular order.

I cook. You laugh, but I like simple things.

I eat with my Tibetan Buddhist, Hui Muslim, Han Atheist friends (separately of course).

I walk the streets and parks watching families, grandmothers, roast-yam sellers.

I watch grandfathers concentrate on chess, majiang, card games.

I watch the same movies (I recommend Kunfu Panda).

I sleep without an alarm.

I realize I'm from the West.

I realize I'm from the East.

I read philosophy (in English), the news (in Spanish), essays (in Chinese), and sometimes textbooks (in math). The wonders and frustrations of languages.

I connect with family, with friends old and new, or just a friendly face.

I learn to fight.

I learn to let go when fighting is useless.

I teach.

And I do all these things without looking at the clock.

信仰

信仰，信仰

是先信再养还是先养再信呢？

何苦呢

理发师想方设法动员我染发，这样他能收我200而不是20。

“你的头发好黄啊。你应该把它染黑，这样能显得你的皮肤更白。”

可在我住的地方，人们把头发染黄去显得他们的皮肤更黑。

一样难理解的事：我的白肤色朋友花很多精力和钱把他们的皮肤晒黑，那紫外线还可以致癌。
我的深肤色朋友也花很多时间和金钱把他们的皮肤花白，那些化妆品也可能致癌。

这是何苦呢。

The Tibet Question

Having spent my year in Tibetan China, many have asked my thoughts on the Tibet issue. I usually dodge so precarious a question as whoever asks (Chinese or Western) usually has strong opinions either way, ones that will not hear fresh views in one conversation. Here, I attempt to articulate views that are entirely my own. I hope to convey some of its complexity and always remain open to new perspectives.

The most popular question: Do I think Tibet should be free?

China will never let allow Tibet independence because it will set the precedent for subsequent successions in the minority west that can lead to 40% land loss. China poised as the emerging powerhouse, will not allow itself to be broken up like the Soviet Union was in its decline. China has 56 minorities that it has fought to conquer and to assimilate over 5,000 years. Historical, cultural, religious differences between Tibetans and Hans will continue to be squashed through the pursuit of a harmonious society via homogeneity.

The question should be: How can Tibetans be treated equally, with respect by their Han Chinese government(CG)?

The answer does not lie in “Free Tibet” campaigns. The more the West portrays Tibet as a victim, the more the Chinese government feels the West (US especially) is trying to break up China as a potential super-power rival. This leads to more state oppression and propaganda. Oppression keeps taking away liberties from Tibetans. Propaganda tells Hans how ungrateful these vile Tibetans are where they are rioting and killing Hans when CG has poured in billions of development aid/Han tax dollars to Tibet. Ill-will between Hans and Tibetans multiply, giving CG more ammunition in enacting oppressive policies. CG feels no pressure from Western campaigns (evidenced by its human rights record), especially when it has national support. These campaigns (initiated by exiles in Nepal and India and financed by EU and US) rile those Tibetans already prone to 3/14 acts where Tibetans set Han shops on fire and Han police fire on Tibetans. Post 3/14 led to worse relations between the Dalai Lama and CG, no Tibetans granted passports, greater military presence across 4 Tibetan provinces, Tibetans losing any sympathy they previously had from Hans because they shamed China pre-Olympics. These campaigns do nothing to help Tibetans living in China.

The answer lies in less, not more hostilities between CG and Tibetan government in exile. Yes, the Dalai Lama(DL) cannot be more a peacemaker, but no matter how saintly DL is as a person, the position of DL is not one that CG will accept. The communist party is religiously non-religious. Anything that threatens the Party=god mentality is immediately squashed. Hence the go-to Tibetan representative cannot be a lama and should reside in China. CG also needs a Tibetan sympathizer who will speak genuinely with the Tibetan representative: non-religious, non-independence, non-discriminatory. CG needs to realize how its demonization of DL and immediate denunciation of Tibetan identities only strengthen Tibetan wishes for independence. Both sides need to give in, and this is best achieved through talks between two appointed representatives. The authoritarian Chinese system allows only ‘heroes shape society’, not ‘society shapes heroes’.

I am too aware that the latter solution asks for much ideological and cultural sacrifice from Tibetans. I have seen Tibetans escorted out of malls, harassed by police, looked down upon by shopkeepers. I have witnessed the same massive aid in-flows NOT benefit Tibetans as they do not the Mayans, Quechuas, Africans…then they are blamed for being stupid and lazy. One very educated Han told me: “Scientifically speaking, less oxygen exists above 3,000m, so Tibetans’ brains do not develop to the same capacity as us.”

I cry at the discrimination. But a Civil Rights Movement cannot exist in authoritarian China. Protests end in bloodshed and further oppression as they did in 6/4, 3/14, and many other failed movements.

To really have Tibetan people’s welfare and not one’s own ideology at heart, the T question is not: Should it be free? But, How can Tibetans have a voice in China?

3/14/08 (Lhasa protests) reference: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7941466.stm

6/4/89 (Tiananmen Sq protest) reference: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8057148.stm

A time to plant, a time to harvest

Dear Friends,

Some of you have expressed concern that I sound too pessimistic here. Thank you for bringing my attention to it, but I assure you that I'm not on the verge of depression. I simply find blogging to be a good release for thoughts that do not fit well into everyday conversation. Imagine when you are talking about the rising prices of soy sauce (or mozzarella), the other person says: "Touching multiple worlds can be a source of existential angst." Instead I say: "Soy sauce on mozzarella may be good." And I leave the former contemplation for here.

But at times when I am anxious, I give a special shout out to the old and new friends who have remained so faithful through my emotional rollercoasters. You dusted me off time and again as I tripped over the same rocks (that I put there myself). When I grumbled over the same things (ones that I do), you are as patient as hearing it for the first time. Thank Allah/Buddha/Supreme Being(s)/polytheistic gods for you.

Love,
Charlene

Tanto Tiempo Busque

Sabes de Reik:

Como aguja en un pajar
Te busqué sin cesar
Como huella en el mar
Tan difícil de hallar
Tanto tiempo busqué
Pero al fin encontré
Tan Perfecta
Como te imagine


Escuchando a Reik, pienso que todavia estoy buscando para "esa cosa", "eso camino", "eso persona". Ojala que como en todos los casos, la busqueda es mas importante que la resulta.