Sunday, February 25, 2007

little things


Had cheese and kimchi for dinner. What a combo! One is stinky for westerners (kimchi), and the other one is stinky for Asians (cheese). Anyway, I am fond of this weird mix.

Listened to "someone's daughter" by Orton over and over again. The sad lyric: "I wish I never saw the sunshine, I wouldn't have minded the rain...wouldn't be this pain.." If I didn't know what is happiness, I would not mind being unhappy. If I did not grow up in the southeast China, I would not have minded this chilling Illinois weather!.....How dialectic!

I wish it won't be so awakward and hard for me to balance my body and mind when doing yoga soon. Always admire those who are able to handle their bodies and minds with ease and peace.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

runaway individualism


I read this interesting piece today:

I frankly see the root ofour problems today as a crisis of interpersonal relationships due to runaway individualism. Runaway individualismforces men to keep their thought but especially their feelings fromeachother.for fear of rejection they have no except therapists to whom they can unload their worst fears.Worse,to avoid being a victim they often have to draw first.

....Intimacy has become such a scarce commodity that many seek salvation in improved communication or as participants in so-called sensivity training sessions (Hsu, 1981).

How interesting ! Yet how very sadly true! Am I a runaway individualist? Am I not?.......

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Iris Chang and Me


The story between Iris and me is rather "dramatic"-dramatic in the way that I've never met her in person but I've kept fantasizing over her life, we are connected by UIUC (how cliche!), and the first time I got to know about her was, actually, from her obituary.

That was a friday in the spring of 2005. I was rushing through the Stuart Hall in Purdue. In the corner of the hall way, I was stopped by an Asian boy who then bowed to me, said something in Korean, and handed me several magazines. I did not have time to explain that I was not Korean nor Korean American. So I just left with his gifts. That afternoon, I read those magazines in the Union. They turned out to be publications from the Korean American community and one article caught my eyes- a talented Chinese American female writer suicided. My first instinct was "Gosh, she was so pretty! Why did she choose to die!" (sorry, but that was the quality of my thoughts). Her face, associated with the red cover of "The Rape of Nanking", was thereafter engraved in my mind. I was also wondering why this was published in a Korean Americans' magazine: because Iris was Asian American, just as themselves? Or because they felt the same painful for the war?

I read two very unhappy books in the summer of 2005. The first one I bought in the bookstore in Pudong airport, when I got off the plane to Shanghai. It was "Life and Death in Shanghai" which was once recommended by Winston. It was about a piece of traumatized history- represented by a mother and a daughter's tragic lives in the Cultural Revolution. So I read it over during the whole summer in Huangshan and suffered enough hedache from the miserable history accounts and the dry narratives. In the year of 2005, looking back to see how China has been going through 40 years ago, I found it to be so ridiculous, heavy, and overwhelmed- why people hated each other? Why there was such strong resentment? Why humans are so easily to be manipulated? Why is the humanity so fragile?

The second book I picked was unfortunately "The Rape of Nanking". This time I bought it in the bookstore of Pudong airport on my way back to the States. On the plane, sitting beside me was an American white male. Seeing me reading this book, he said "Don't read this book. It's so unhappy. I'm never able to finish it." I thought he was pathetic-after all, it was just a one-hundred-page-or-so booklet! But it turned out to be my fate too. I felt so hard to just swallow hastily the atrocious facts and to really relate it to the world surrounding me. I guess I could not read it because the fear that crept up on me- the fear to know what the world really is. And how astonishing it was that this incredible courage came from a female-the pretty girl on the cover (sorry for my bloody gendered stereotype)!

Now she is dead,for reasons so obvious yet so unknown.

Uncle Larry just sent me an e-mail, saying Taiwan is abbreviating the acounts of Nanjing Massacre in their school history books because it happened in China - a "foreign" country, thus it's no necessary to elaborate on it. I'm rather speechless. I bet Iris would feel sad, too, if she was still alive, because she herself was, according to the "definition", a Taiwanese American. It cost her a life to dig out the truth. And it cost a night for Taiwanese government to deny the fact (the fact that we were at least the same country at that time). History witnesses the ironies of itself. Not we human beings are manipulated, but even the history cannot avoid to be slaughtered.

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter.......and Spring

A movie good enough to tear down my stereotype of Korean movies.

Just as it is reflected in the title 'Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring', the whole movie is thematized of the Buddhist philosophy - the world, including human lives, is constantly on a continuation, passing on and on, cycling, endlessly. There is no death. So that there should be no fear for death, because our lives will continue in different forms after death.

I'm wondering if the inspiration of the movie comes from a dream. The story takes place in an entirely isolated small woody temple floating on a lake that is surrounded by mountains, which is too perfectly ideally Buddhist to be imagined as existed in the real life. The setting is also implicit of the Buddhist ideology: life is self-enclosed, floating around, ungovernable, and the most crucial part is to keep it balanced.

Spring. A little monk and an old monk. Don't know their names. Central theme: kindness and empathy. The little one learns it by a lesson: he plays with a fish, a frog and a snake by tying a small stone to each creature; then he finds them all died because their incapability to move and he cries confronting the scenes. Hereby the Buddhist philosophy that all humans are born kind is illustrated.

Summer. The boy has grown up. Then a girl comes. So innocently, purely sexy. The opposite kind of Tyra Banks. So vulnerable and defenseless and thus, all boys would fall for her. The monk is no exception. He seduces her. They make love on a huge rock and in the boat. Incredibly romantic. However, there is really no love here (to me). Only sex. It is as if he has been blinded ever since and all of a sudden, someone opens his eyes. Now he is able to see. The old monk finds it out. He sends the girl back and gives the boy a choice. The boy chooses to go after the girl, abandoning the temple and life he has always been carring.

Fall. Tragedy. The boy ends up murdering his wife and comes back to the temple. It is no surprise because in their relationship, a possession of each other takes over. So that what matters is the occupation of each other's body. When the boy finds out the girl dates another man, he kills her. The essential belief of Buddhism is the ultimate happiness lies in a balanced, peaceful, and tolerant heart which is strong enough to resist all worldly temptations. All sorts of lusts, such as sex and vanity, are intruding forces that will break the balance, stirring up turmoils. That's why temptations is the source of evilness.

This boy comes back with a heart of hatred, unrestness and agitation. The balance is completely ruined. Seeing that, the old monk holds the tail of a cat, using it as a calligraphy pen, starting calligraphying on the outskirt of the temple ground. Then he asks the boy to carving out the characters on the ground. Buddhist philosohy comes again: concentration cures. Only by meditation people are able to restore the peace in heart. Then the police come. But they let the boy continue carving before arresting him. By the time he finishes it, he has already regained the peace in his heart ,exemplified by the soundness of his last sleep in the temple.

Life or death doesn't matter. What goes beyond them and what really should be counted is the peace and the balance. Losing the balance is even worse than dying. Why worrying, then? Why sad, then? What is more delightful to be contented with whatever you have, then?

Winter. The old monk suicided by burning himself on the boat. He becomes a snake. The life is always continuing, but in different forms. He-the snake-chooses to stay in the temple.

Spring again. A new monk comes. Then a small boy. The story, the life, and the cycle continues. What will be the story for this summer, then?