Berlin, 2016

It's Monday night, December 19, 2016. I'm standing in the lobby of a Frankfurt hotel, staring at a TV monitor. The Berlin Christmas market next to the Kaiser Wilhelm church is on the news. Strings of Christmas lights shine behind the flashing red and blue of emergency vehicles. I try to decipher the German headline scrolling by on the bottom of the screen. Something has gone terribly wrong. Not much later, I find out about the truck.

Two days before, Ping and I had passed through that very spot several times, happily wandering from stall to stall, enjoying the holiday spirit in the Christmas market. A few yards away, we had sipped warm cups of Glüwein. Pictures of the scene on the internet today make my heart ache. We'd been there--right there--and nothing bad had happened. Not on that day. Not to us. It wasn't our time.

Being in Berlin was already an emotional experience for me for other reasons. 

A little background. In my early teens, I was obsessed with World War II. As I struggled with everything from the confusion surrounding Vietnam to zealous religious beliefs to my own deep internal conflicts, WWII offered a simple dichotomy. Evil had raised its ugly head, but Good had emerged victorious.

Hitler, Himmler, Mengele, Goering and Goebbels conceived and carried out some of the worst atrocities in recent history. Auschwitz, Dachau, Mauthousen and Ravensbrück actually existed. The miraculous evacuation of Dunkirk, the Battle of the Bulge, and D-Day actually happened. Good people did amazing things against impossible odds. It's also true that IBM, Kodak, Standard Oil, Chase Bank and others made fortunes supplying both sides. The United States remains the only country ever to have dropped an atomic bomb on someone else. We did it twice. Things weren't so simple even then.

In Berlin last week, I got to go inside the preserved wreckage of the Kaiser Wilhelm church. I saw what it looked like before and after the Allied bombing. The blasted out rosette remains empty. I walked in Tiergarten Park, whose towering trees are all younger than 71 years old. Every one of their predecessors had been chopped up and burned for firewood after the war. We crossed the street.

Tears welled up as the setting sun lit the inside of the Brandenburg Gate and I realized what I had just done: I had casually crossed the street from West Berlin to East Berlin! No papers had been scrutinized, no looks of suspicion had been leveled at me. I could walk back anytime I wanted. No shots would be fired. All I had to watch out for was traffic. 

A double row of bricks embedded in the pavement marks the line where the Soviet-built tank barrier once walled off the Brandenburg Gate. Cars drive across it all day.

This city had suffered under one tyrant only to be divided up, dominated and isolated by another. What struck me was how free it felt that day. People of all ages hung out at the Christmas market, laughing and talking over steaming mugs of mulled wine or hot cocoa. Locals smiled and joked with us in two languages, counted out my coins for me when I forgot my glasses, and cheerfully waited to pass while Ping took a picture of some new delight. A peaceful demonstration blocked traffic, escorted fore and aft by the Polizei. The only order barked was the one that stopped a car trying to squeeze in a right turn after the intersection was closed to let the demonstrators proceed safely.

Two days later, a hijacked truck plowed into the crowd at the market by the bombed-out remains of the church.

I wasn't around for WWII. I was in a different hemisphere during most of the Cold War, but I remember listening to the radio with rapt attention as the wall came down in 1989. Crossing the street to the Brandenburg Gate brought me full circle. And having wandered through that Christmas market in Berlin made the truck attack all the more real.

Would I go back? Absolutely. I would go back to Berlin, just like I would go back to Istanbul and Ankara. These are special places. Why? Not only because I've been there; that just makes them special to me, personally. They're part of the world, part of this planet. That makes them special in their own right. That's enough.

This is the world in which we live, but that's the point: we LIVE here. We LIVE. So does everyone else with whom we agree or disagree, whom we understand or do not understand, who hold us in high esteem or in contempt--these are the people of this planet. This is our home. These are our times. 

The same questions that have been asked of every human being before are now being asked of us: "Who will you be in these circumstances? How will you respond?"

May I answer not with a fist, a creed or an ideology, but with open eyes, a clear head, a strong backbone and an open heart.

On one of the sections of the Berlin wall left standing (directly translated):
"You have learned what freedom means and never forget."

Tantrums

(Zion National Park, USA)

When very young children experience negative emotions and don't know how best to express their needs, they act out. We recognize it as a "temper tantrum" and try to understand. It's best when we can calmly communicate with them to determine the root cause, to fully understand the situation so we can address their needs.

What about adults who throw "temper tantrums" on the internet? Perhaps too much unresolved pain, stress or disappointment has built up in their lives. They act out by leaving unkind, angry, unchecked comments wherever they are allowed. What do we do with them? What do we do with a presidential candidate publicly throwing tantrums and repeatedly using the kind of language that we would not allow our children to use? People behaving like this seem to forget that while their comments may exist only in the virtual world, the damage they inflict is for real. Words have power.

I am not wise enough to come up with a solution for the world at large. I can, however, make sure to safeguard my personal cyber world. I choose not to expose myself to unfounded or poorly conducted news reports, inappropriate language, biased emotional outbursts, etc. Allowing that into my life would be to unintentionally propagate it further. I can stop it here.

Coffee Talk

For years, Mark and I have started our day with coffee. It's something we both treasure and look forward to every day. We have some of our most interesting conversations over this cup of coffee. Mark may relate a vivid dream from the night before. "Dream Analysis, by Wanda," (starring Mark as "Wanda!") can be revealing, insightful or confusing, but having that direct connection with the unconscious is fascinating.

I don't seem to remember most of my dreams. Interestingly, though, at that early hour of the day, I very often have "wiser thoughts" to share. It's also interesting how I often start the day feeling wiser, and seem to progressively lose my wits throughout the day.

I think it'll be fun to capture some of our "Coffee Talk" conversations in this blog. I shall label them as "Coffee Talk."

(P.S.: Have no fear, "Wanda" doesn't do "TMI.")

Experiment

(Off the beaten path at Telč, Czech)

"Gratitude turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion into clarity...it makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow." ~ Melody Beattie
 
I decided to do an experiment today:

I will focus on Enough & Blessing.
I will express gratitude every chance I get.
I will say "Yes" to life, followed by "and I choose to..."
I will use my sitting posture as a reminder.

Wait...say what?

One of the hard lessons I learned from 2015 was Proper Posture. I thought I had already gotten all I needed to know about that from books, articles, chiropractors, physical therapists and ergonomic specialists. I hadn't noticed that, in fact, I was in constant pain. I was too busy with everything else, paying little attention to my physical experience. My body did its best to accommodate a "brainy person" like me who simply took it for granted.

It was truly eye-opening to realize how disconnected I was from my body. I had to peel away layers and layers of pain to find out that the way I was sitting, standing, lying down, and walking guaranteed pain and poor quality of life.

In our current lifestyle, I sit a lot. That's why I am using my sitting posture as a constant reminder. Here's how I sit if I am not paying attention:

tense
leaning forward
neck and shoulders hunched forward
holding my breath

It's as if I am afraid I'll miss something if I'm not always poised in the "ready" position.

Instead, I am going to recite the following, like mantras, throughout the day:

I am enough.
I have enough.
Relax.
Breathe.
Thank you.

I hope to experience the magic of physical life in this world of abundance.

Car/Driver Analogy

2006, Iguazu Falls, Brazil

I was lying on the floor doing my daily E-cises*, contemplating how the mind, body and spirit function together, when I thought: each of us is sort of like a car and driver. Our body is the car, and our "spirit" or "soul" is the driver of that car. 

A car attains peak performance when it is well maintained and driven by a good driver who knows the car and drives it the way it was designed. Good drivers accept and appreciate their car for what it is, and don't wish it were something else. Once behind the wheel, drivers get to choose the destination, route, speed, rest stops, and so on. Of course, drivers also get to decide if they enjoy the ride or not.

In my simple world, we're all just "driving" through this life in our different "cars." I don't expect that everyone else's car should be painted the same color as mine, have the same owner's manual, or carry the same number of passengers in exactly the same way. The world needs all different kinds. I find the diversity fascinating.

___

* A few words on E-cises: They are simple physical therapy routines developed by Pete Egoscue. The basic idea is to allow one's body to heal on its own. The best thing about doing the E-cises is, in my opinion, being pain-free.

(P.S.: Thanks to Mark for his wordsmithery on this!)

A Brand New Start

“Loss can be the place where beauty and goodness begin” ~ Parker Palmer

Just like the years before, I started 2015 with an apprehensive but hopeful attitude. I was even more hopeful after reading some astrology forecasts on the internet. By that time Mark and I had lived in Taiwan for more than three years, long enough for him to renew his residency card (similar to the “Alien Card” in the US). It hadn’t been all rosy up till then, but in 2015, something good was sure to happen, so I hoped.

Back in 2011, we both stepped away from Corporate America. We knew that doing so without a clear vision was a bold move. However,  we are innately optimistic and we were pretty confident of our creative abilities. Between the two of us, we really do have tons of ideas on any given day. We believed we just needed the time to try them out. Taiwan seemed like the logical place to do it.

Taiwan is my birth country. When my parents learned of our intent to move here, they generously offered a place for us to call home--without charging us a penny. Taiwan isn't just any place in the world, either. It has more than 260 peaks over 3,000 meters. It’s full of friendly people, good food, and awesome coffee shops. The national health insurance is truly affordable. Being our adventurous, happy-go-lucky selves, we gave away or sold our belongings and made The Move.

Have I ever mentioned in this blog that I cried for days and was depressed for months after the move? I’m sure I haven't. I couldn’t face it, and I didn’t want to. It was confusing.

Although I grew up here, and was a “good kid” at home and “model student” at school, I had very little exposure to and understanding of the real world. Being a “good kid” meant I had to stop being myself, and unquestioningly submit to authority at home. Being a “model student” meant I had to ace tests, excel at competitions, and unquestioningly submit to authority at school. It was a narrow life.

Immediately after college graduation, I moved to the US and stayed there, so I never did learn the “way of living” here in Taiwan. I was virtually clueless about this culture, but I didn't realize that when we moved here in 2011. I thought I should “get” this culture and know it by heart. I didn’t know that the difficulties I was experiencing were “culture shock.” Worse yet, people expected me to know how everything works here. I kind of looked like a Taiwanese, and sort of talked like one, but I definitely did not think like one. Mark couldn’t help much because of the language barrier; plus he was dealing with his own culture shock. Hence, I felt very much on my own figuring out everything from toilet paper to government matters (Mark tells me he gets those two mixed up all the time).

Don’t get me wrong: there are many good things to say about our lives after The Move. We have explored a lot more of this beautiful world, and we have had the opportunity to focus on things we care about without having to follow a set schedule.

I have also had many opportunities to face myself, my fears, and the challenges of living very intimately with Mark, in a small space, day in and day out, day after day. We both wanted to make this new life work. I found that when things got tough, I simply read more books and tried harder to be a better person. Mark did his best to stay productive, drawing, writing and painting. Some days weren't so productive. When that became the trend, we were both concerned.

As 2015 progressed, something we did not expect and could not change became clear. We confessed to each other that we couldn’t enjoy the long, hot, humid summer that seems to last all year. We needed the big sky, big mountains, big land, and quiet living space more than we realized. But that was just the start.

I totally did not expect that 2015 would be the year “the shit hit the fan.” I was beat, physically and mentally. I was in pain and in shock on so many levels that I was forced to pay attention to myself, whether I wanted to or not. To my own surprise, despite being discouraged over and over by a baffling variety of constantly shifting pain, I still had the will and perseverance to pursue knowledge. I found resources and studied holistic healing and healthy simple living.

Even more surprising was this: I was experiencing an increasing sense of gratitude for everything. How could one have so much pain and be grateful at the same time? I don’t know. It’s truly awesome. Perhaps all that stuff I've read over the years is finally sinking in.

I find I have a better understanding of why I'm on this planet. I believe my purpose in life is to explore and discover beauty in all forms, and share my discoveries with the world. In my world, beauty is the gateway to inner peace and joy. I find beauty most easily in Nature, in music, in graceful body movements, books and almost invariably when I go to a new place.

Something good has come out of all this pain. I have learned a lot, but most importantly, I am learning to breathe, sit, stand, walk and sleep. It’s like having my life all over again, only this time I am prepared to walk with a healthy body and a grateful heart, fully living as that awesome, curious soul I was from the very beginning.

Not Going Away

Back in the '90s, I [Mark] was a business analyst at an internet startup. One of the guys there had a Ph.D. in astrophysics, an MA in photography, and another MA in violin performance. He was the database administrator. Yes, you read that right: he was our DBA, and he was cool with that.

I once asked him: "How is it that guys with multiple interests and skills in the arts don't end up doing those things for a living?"

He said: "We discovered we didn't have to."

That statement has rolled around in my head a lot in the last fifteen years or so. At first, I thought: "Of course! You'd have to be obsessed, driven, desperate, and devoid of other options!"

Now I see it a bit differently. As an adult, I have tried many times to specialize, to choose one skill or talent over another. The effort always fails. The things that are deepest in my soul may wait their turn for a time, but if I ignore one for too long, it simply steps in front of me and grabs me by the shirt collar, looks me in the eye and says: "LISTEN to me!"

I know the things I need to pay attention to now. They're the things that are still here after all these years. They're the things that give me chills, make me cry, keep me up till all hours.

I may not have to do them for a living, but it would make sense if I did. One way or another, they're not going away.

Another guy I worked with at the startup was in his mid-twenties, a former track guy who played ultimate Frisbee at lunch and could do two thousand vertical feet in five miles without really breaking a sweat. On one such hike, I watched him "get some air" coming down the trail. I told him I wished I could do what he did.

He shook his head and said: "No, right now I'm probably in the best shape I'll ever be. I wish I could do what you do. You're going to get nothing but better at it for the rest of your life."

He was right. In the last four years, Ping and I have taken radical steps, partly so I could have the chance to see what I could do with "the other 80% of me" that I wasn't able to focus on when I worked in IT. The experiment has revealed a lot of things, both strengths and weaknesses.

While I am still determining how to make my skills self-supporting, I know much better now what I can do with them.

Besides, they're not going away.

Luck Follows When I Choose

When I look back on my life, I now see a series of lucky events. I clearly remember making conscious decisions on some of them. Other times, I felt like I was forced or left with no choice, and hence I “decided” to stop fighting or wishing for a different result, and went with life instead. What if I had made a different choice? Here is the amazing thing: I am here reflecting, writing, and feeling very much at peace with myself, regardless. This, to me, is the ultimate "Luck."

請聽我說 (1)

我很喜歡到森林裡走走。

仰頭望著茂密高聳的樹，順著蜿蜒的步道，盼望著下個驚喜。

飛花，蟲鳴，鳥叫，大自然美麗的樂章無比生動地進行。

咦？那是什麼聲音？

路人甲小小的播放器大聲地吆喝著她喜愛聽的歌，

路人乙的藍芽音響也慷慨激昂。

淹沒了美好的天籟！

我，失落，無語。

Lost Gloves

Most likely, I was removing layers. I was a little too hot and had to pull off my waterproof shell, take off my fleece inner jacket, roll it up, cinch the stuff sack and stow it in the backpack, and then put the shell back on before I got cold again. I think I got that right. I just missed one detail.

Oxygen scarcity is deceptive. We think we're managing just fine. But sometimes, in the altitude, little things get missed.

Somewhere out there, I lost a well-worn, well-loved pair of gloves. They weren't even gloves, really, just glove liners--black, lightweight, just warm enough to ward off the chill. It's hard to explain how much they meant to me. They smelled of deep woods, rock and snow, and I was happy every time I wore them.

I'd had this particular pair for over 15 years. That's a lot of miles, a lot of elevation, a lot of effort, and a lot of exploring: the Cascades, the Wallowas, the Sawtooths, the Rockies, the Sierra Nevada...

So if I had to lose these gloves, it was only fitting that they end up beside a rocky trail, at about 15,000' in the Tibetan Autonomous Region. Back when I bought them, I had only dreamed of such places.

I'll be back--if not to this trail, then to another one. As usual, I'll bring a spare pair of gloves. That old pair is probably buried under heavy snow by now.

還債還是造福

該寫一點中文的東西了。

在台灣，常常聽到“前世欠的，此世還債”的說法。
我總覺得這樣的想法有點忽略了重點，而且沒完沒了，令人心情沉重。

就我有限的了解，目前的小小看法是 -
我們生生世世不斷地角色互換，為的是靈的充實與擴展。每一個人生沒有別人幫忙，自己一個人也沒戲唱。有趣的是宇宙的運行十分奧秘。幾個簡單的自然法則奇妙地維繫所有的平衡，無論是有形的或是無形的，保證公平，完全不需要我們來論定。所以說出現在我們生命的人不但是我們的合作夥伴，還是患難之交。多一點感恩的心，誰也不欠誰。

人生唯一的保證是無常，我們只能帶著好奇心一步接著一步走。至於這條路好不好走，好不好玩，往往是一念之差。生氣怨嘆是自己的選擇。能多原諒，嘗試多元性的想法，往往會意想不到地化凶為吉。多多把握讓自己開心，他人開懷的機會，幸福隨時相隨。

我是這麼想的。你呢？
希望有緣人都能體驗一個無怨無悔，豐富精彩的人生！

Mark's "10 Books That Have Stuck With Me" (plus a Bonus Book)

There's a challenge going around on Facebook: "name 10 books that have stuck with you." Once I made my own list, I really wanted to say why these books have had such an impact. Here goes, in no particular order:

1. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (C.S. Lewis)
This was my first introduction to fantasy. I was four years old. My favorite memory of my grandfather is the sound of his gravelly voice as he read this book out loud to us kids. My imagination ran wild, and it's never stopped running.

2. Use Case Driven Object Modeling With UML - A Practical Approach (Rosenberg & Scott)
This book arrived right when I needed it. The inimitable Meilir Paige-Jones had just taught me how--and why--to do use case and data modeling using the Universal Modeling Language (UML). Suddenly, relationships, processes and even the meanings of words could be diagrammed! This very practical book kept those ideas handy, while warning me (over and over!) that analysis was neither an end in itself nor a reasonable excuse for delaying the project.

3. The Fellowship of the Ring (J.R.R. Tolkien)
I'd heard the praises of Tolkien extolled for years before I finally read his books. This one still stands out as having the greatest influence on my writing. When I started my own fantasy novel, it was a LONG time before I could finally stop imitating the true "Lord of the Rings" and find my own voice. This opening book in the trilogy is still the standard by which I measure fantasy writing.

4. The State of the Presidency (Cronin)
I don't remember who gave me a copy of this relatively small book, but it completely changed my understanding of government. Cronin's assessment of how different U.S. presidents viewed and handled the demands of the Oval Office gave me food for thought. It was sort of my transition to political "solid food," stuff I had to chew on awhile before digesting it. After reading this book, I started thinking more for myself, and asking a lot more questions.

5. Beyond Backpacking (Ray Jardeen)
Appalachian Trail and PCT through-hiker Jardeen rattled my preconceptions of what it takes to get from Point A to Point B on foot. I discovered I'd made a lot of assumptions based on impression, rather than hard experience. Opinionated and colorful, Jardeen helped me rethink my approach to gear, food and, especially, footwear.

6. Roadside Geology of Washington/Oregon/California (3 books) (Alt & Hyndman)
The earth moves! Tectonic plates slip over and under each other, sub-continents slam into continents, granite melts its way into basalt and continues to rise long after cooling, and massive glacial ice dams crack and give way, sending a 300-foot high wall of water dashing across the Northwest, scraping away at everything in its path until it barrels down the Columbia Gorge and gushes out into the Pacific! Volcanoes! Andesite! Gneiss! Schist! Alt and Hyndman map out and explain in plain language some of the awesome geology which is observable from the road in all three Pacific states.

7. Cradle to Cradle (McDonough & Braungart)
Tom Lambert's recommendation of this book sent me on a journey that will never stop. An architect and a chemist, talk about how there is no "away" when we throw things away. We say "cradle to grave," but we need to think "cradle to cradle." They distinguish true "recycling" from our usual "downcycling." They posit that we don't have a production problem: we have a design problem. What if all of our systems, living spaces and products were designed to parallel the characteristics and functions of a tree? In short: "Take the toxins out of the system; waste is food; then produce, produce, produce!"

8. Norman Rockwell, Illustrator (Guptill, et al.)
Of all the books in my parents' house when I grew up, this was the one I looked at the most, I think. Rockwell's visual storytelling ability, his meticulous draftsmanship, and his love of character greatly influenced my art. While he was the consummate portrait artist, his ability to include accurate environmental details was astounding. My subject matter is different, but I still strive to incorporate such craftsmanship.

9. Let Your Life Speak (Palmer)
Parker J. Palmer quietly talks about what it really means to be authentic. In a world that values status, acquisitions and achievements, Palmer ruminates on what it means to follow an original path. I love his story about stewing over whether or not he should take a position as president of a college. His Quaker group listened to his dilemma until he was done speaking. After a time of quiet, someone asked why he wanted the job. Palmer realized that what he really wanted was to see the word "President" under his picture. After some more quiet, the person asked, "Is there an easier way to do that?"

10. Complete Poems and Plays (T.S. Eliot)
This was my very first college textbook. The class was taught by the wonderful Dr. McCreery, an elegant woman, articulate and erudite, who spoke and acted with the grace of another era, and yet somehow managed to be unpretentious. Who better to introduce me to the poet who would shape my understanding of the power of words? I wrote reams of thoughtful-yet-blathering, free-form verse, much of it morose, most of it hardly readable even at the time, but the experience was great practice. By exploring T.S. Eliot, Dr. McCreery showed me how good poetry could be appreciated on the first reading, and yet only reveal its innermost secrets to those who follow the poet through the same literary landscape that informed the writing. My metaphors may never be as deep, but I thank Mr. Eliot for giving me so many valuable examples, just out of reach.

Bonus book:
11. The Pale Green Pants and Other Stories (Dr. Seuss)
Our family had a recording of someone reading this book back when I was in Junior High. I wish I knew who it was--he was outstanding! I used to play the tape on the stereo while I lip-synced and mimed the stories. I'll still perform "The Pale Green Pants" from memory now, sometimes despite entreaties to desist. Second only to T.S. Eliot, Dr. T.S. Geisel has also had a profound influence on my poetry. He never failed to be both creative and strictly true to form. To me, that's important, and Dr. Seuss showed it was possible--even if words had to be made up. You see, I firmly believe that...

Rhyming and meter can always be done well,
Provided the poem is truly begun well;
And endings, you know, should be given a twist--
A remarkable sleight-of-hand flick of the wrist!--
And leave you, dear reader, in breathless delight.
(Well, that's what I hope for when starting to write.)
Yet, often I find that the poet is lazy.
He won't pay attention; his meaning is hazy.
The rhyming, the timing, the rhythm is wrong.
You wouldn't--you COULDN'T--put that in a song,
For no one would sing it! I mean, who would want to
When so many words are stacked over and onto
Each other--Oh, brother! I've done it again.
I guess I'll stop writing and put down my pen.
(MIC - September, 2014)

Grandmas On Our Street

Some days are more difficult than others. Yesterday was one of those.

I felt stuck, lost, and frustrated that I don't seem to contribute in any visible way. Then I remembered our neighborhood grandmas.

Are We There Yet?

People often ask, "Why did you quit your career?"
I don't know if I have a good answer. The short answer is: passion for authenticity.

Also people asked, "Why did you move to Taiwan?"
Well, it's not an accident. Before the move, we figured that the food is good in Taiwan, they have a great national health care system, the people seem nice, and one of my parents liked the idea; plus,

Impermanence

(Image borrowed from the Web)

Back in 1989, Don Henley wrote a song that has stuck with me ever since. (Full lyrics here) "New York Minute" brings the human condition into sharp focus:

Everything is impermanent. Everything.

This is not just happening to everyone else. It's personal. Henley points that out with every scenario in the song. His opening to the last stanza has become a touchstone for me over the years.

What the head makes cloudy
The heart makes very clear

I tend to over-think things, often heading down a path that leads me away from the goodness right in front of me. l seem to think that I can logically predict what comes next. Rarely have I been proven right, and if I do apparently get it right, "everything can change in a New York minute."

Good or bad, whatever is happening right now can change in a New York minute. That's not just a message of desperation. It's also a message of hope.

When I fully appreciate impermanence, I more easily recognize the richness of this particular day.

May my heart make that very clear.

I Wander

Convict Lake, California

Experts offer life improvement tips and tricks all the time. After having read quite a bit of their advice, I've discovered that they almost always contradict each other. It's almost as if "one man's poison is another man's medicine." 

So rather than fussing with other people's ideas, attempting to replicate their life lessons, I concluded that I am better off finding my own way.

The Big P

I'd like to think after all these years, I've figured out what my purpose in life is. The Big P, that is.

The same day I stepped out of my IT job, I twisted my angle in my own garage. It seemed highly unlikely that such small accident would keep me from walking for almost six months. When the speedy recovery wasn't happening, I had no choice but to be patient with myself. I meditated, read an insane number of books, watched baby birds hatch and take their first flights, counted lemons on the lemon tree, got good at recognizing humming birds by sound, even talked to the roses...

The Value of Boredom

     An apology is in order. I fell into a classic parenting trap. I told my kids that being bored was an inexcusable sign of a lack of creativity. And I believed it.
     According to psychoanalyst Adam Phillips, having the capacity to be bored is actually an essential element for a full life.
     Boredom is halfway between wanting something to spark our interest, and hoping we come up with something on our own. These two wishes are actually in opposition, but neither is fulfilled. In fact, what we really hope for is that we'll actually become interested at all. But we're not. Everything we look at is meh. We become preoccupied with the fact that we're not preoccupied.
     Phillips points out that despite the irritation and frustration we feel when we're bored, we are actually "reaching to a recurrent sense of emptiness out of which [our] real desire can crystallize."
     Hmm...emptiness...real desire... Wait, doesn't everything arise out of emptiness? Isn't that the necessary condition for something new? This is ancient wisdom. But we dread that irritation--and someone told us it was inexcusable--so we check our cellphones, turn on the television, surf the Web, play solitaire, or just complain to other people whenever the level of stimulation drops below a certain point. It's better to be busily unfulfilled.
     We end up displacing the emptiness out of which what we really want can arise. If we do get to that stillness, we might find it boring. That's okay.
     Lauren, Sarina, Ryan and Alan: I'm sorry. You don't need my permission anymore, but you have it, late though it is. You can be bored now. I won't judge you for it. I'm learning not to judge myself for avoiding it.

Morning Coffee

I get to have coffee with my best friend every morning.

It started at a McDonald's somewhere halfway between Everett, Washington, and Portland, Oregon. We lived 200 miles apart at that time but somehow managed to meet twice a week. We needed each other and we needed that coffee. When we got to spend more time together on the weekends, we didn't want to "waste" time going out. Hence our version of "Javoca" was born. It's a simple hot drink that blends instant coffee and cocoa mix (click to listen to "Javoca"). Over long conversations and cups of Javoca, we answered each other's questions about "who am I." We liked the answers we received.

We got married and got to work for the same company. On the way to work, we would stop by our neighborhood Starbucks and say "Hi" to the "breakfast club," a group of seniors from the retirement community nearby who met there every morning. Then we enjoyed the day's first cup of coffee as we carpooled. We had a lot to talk about. In those morning coffee conversations, we learned to help each other grow and cope with the complexity of a mixed and blended family. 

Both of my sons chose colleges in California. I missed them terribly, and I was beginning to yearn for something more. We decided to move to sunny California to take a look. On cold workday mornings, we would light up the fireplace and enjoy our wonderful conversations over a cup of home brewed coffee before the commute. On weekends, we'd go to the Queen Bean coffee house where we had found the world's best "Cubano." We would spend hours reading, talking, writing and drawing. We dug deep into our souls, asking hard questions and daring ourselves to dream. After umptine "Cubanos," it became obvious that we had to do this full-time. But how? "Quit our jobs and move to Taiwan then." Those "Cubanos" were very powerful!

So many things changed after the move. Our daily morning coffee survived. We now use a French Press, Vietnamese Drip, cold brew, or Mark's secret weapon. Our conversations still center around learning of all sorts. I love our morning coffee time and Mark is still my best friend. I could not ask for a better partner in life!

[Mark says: "Ditto! Lucky me!"]

Now I Can Be Sticky For Hours

It's all about what one can get used to.

We've been in Taiwan almost three years now, and we're going through the hottest part of the summer. This is what it looks like from the Central Weather Bureau's site:

25 ~ 35

COMFORTABLE~EXTREMEL

They don't have room for the "LY HOT AND MUGGY" bit. So, as the temps get more "extreml," we strip down more and more, but there's a limit to how much you can take off and still greet people at the front door. What about after you hit that limit?