China
Friday, December 31, 2004
The Bright Wind Blows...
My time in America has been fulfilling and good for me, but I've been learning that it's not the place I need to be right now. On one hand, coming back here was like a kick in the face, while on the other, it was like a sweet honey.
For a long time, I had been planning to spend a long time in China - maybe my whole life - learning about the Chinese, living among them, becoming friends with them, and sharing my life with them. This has always exhilarated me -- from every word I breathed in the Chinese language, to every night I spent in a Chinese bed, I knew that my life was growing and expanding in ways I could not predict.
But some things tempted me to come back to America, and to find out if maybe it wouldn't be better for me to stay here for a while. Suffice it to say that even though I always intended to go back to China, I considered being here for a year or so. Then, those temptations which had lured me here suddenly became unhealthy for me and they left me wondering what I should do. I felt ashamed that I had even left China in the first place, when it had been such a great home for me and held so much promise, and I thought maybe I needed to stay here for a while, just in order to become worthy of going back.
But things don't work that way. Worthiness doesn't come from outward measurements: degrees from western universities, or years of experience in some profession. Somehow I realized that if I'm going to be worthy to go back to China, I have to embrace the worthiness I was born with.
You see, I know so many people there in China, who are to me like stars shining in the sky of humility and friendliness. I hear some foreigners complain about problems they have with Chinese people, but somehow I think that they live in a different China from the one I have known for 4 years. Truly, the Chinese friends I am blessed with make me feel awed. They are so different from me, and yet, in every way that counts, not different at all. None of these dear people ever looked at me and thought I was not worthy.
For me, the word I made up for this website, "brightwind," has taken on a real meaning. It is that mysterious wind which blows you where you need to be in life. It may blow you onto a certain path, then off it, then on it again, but all the time it is blowing you in the right direction. It is the force behind "Yuan Fen," as the Chinese love to call it -- the way people come into your life just when you need them, and the way you come into their lives, just when they need you.
This brightwind whispered in my ear that China was not waiting for me to be worthy. The reality was something else. When you hear the brightwind calling you, soothing your heart, you can't really put into words the message you hear. But suddenly, it makes you feel warm and content with your life as it is, with the plans as they were before you tried to fix them -- unbroken, whole, and worthy.
I hold in my hands a plane ticket to Nanjing, arriving February 26. (Happy New Year)
China • David's Life • Love • (21) Trackbacks • Permalink
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Old Man Tree
Many trees in the Forbidden City, and elsewhere in Beijing’s historic sites, are so old and weak that they need to be supported by these big green crutches. This one looks like an old man trying to bend over without falling over. It’s pitiful, and beautiful, too, in an old and gnarly kind of way.
It reminds me of the dryads, tree spirits of Greek myth. Even though dryads were usually young and female, they had a vulnerability that is still here in this old tree.
In most cases, it would be the old trees that sacrifice themselves for us, in the form of paper, lumber, or a host of other purposes. Tourism is a force, however, that makes us bend over backwards to protect the few trees that tourists will see. Vast forests people don’t see—or more particularly, don’t spend money to see—are also something people rarely spend money to protect.
Monday, May 03, 2004
The Shanghai Taxi/Shopping Problem
The thing about Shanghai is that it’s not quite like what you’d expect China to be. Standing on the pedestrian overpass, you see just how much light there is down there in the intersection and you wonder how China got to be this way. Major shopping centers, such as this one, feel like the beating heart of the city. This is where thousands of young people come each day to hang out, watch movies, eat pizza hut and buy new computers. You could buy an iPod here, eat some French-style vegetarian food, and then go shopping for underwear all without breaking a sweat—if you wanted to, of course.
People are everywhere in places like this, and getting a taxi feels a bit like cutthroat competition at best—if you wait in some sort of respectable line, you’ll never get where you want to go. The first time I tried to get a taxi in this intersection, I waited through about 40 minutes of frustration before a kindly Chinese gentleman finally noticed my plight and had pity on me. Later on, I got good enough at it so that I can go to the right place, cut some other people off, and get in my taxi like an old pro.
The only thing is: I still feel guilty about it. A real Shanghai pro would be past that.
This feeling represents the contradiction that Shanghai presents us with: modern China versus traditional China in all the little aspects of life. Somehow the proper Chinese gentlemanly spirit would be to look around you and see if there’s anyone who needs help getting a taxi, especially a foreigner, a mother, or an elderly person, and then assist them to get one. Even in a crowd, a Chinese gentleman would do that. Having to play along with the regular Shanghai big-city-rules feels very much like going against the civilized rules of greater China.
Is China growing to encompass new things, like shopping megacomplexes and busy city ethics, or does embracing such new concepts mean betraying the values that have always made China what it is?
China • Photos • Shanghai • (48) Trackbacks • Permalink
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Gateway at the Great Wall
The beauty of China is ancient and glorious, yet everywhere you go, you can see the marks of modern life scratched onto its ancient surface. On the sides of this doorway, for example, you can see the names of various Chinese tourists who have been to that spot over the years.
Any moment now, you may also see someone walk up from the stairway just below the scene you’re trying to capture here, right into the field of view of your photograph. They know that by the time they’ve seen you, they’ve already gotten in your way, so rather than back down and wait for you to take your master photo, they just keep on coming. Sometimes it seems that there are hordes of tourists coming in waves upon waves, and you’ll never get your scenic photograph.
Drawing the lesson from missed opportunities, we often say “carpe diem” or “seize the day.” At a Chinese tourist attraction, however, armed with your camera, the most important principle is “seize the instant, or be prepared to wait an hour for another one.”
Saturday, May 01, 2004
How Steep It Is
In China they have a saying that: “If you don’t make it to the Great Wall, you aren’t really a good man.” I always chuckle when I think of that because I think “wow, women really got it made!” but I have to admit that the intention of the saying is that the Great Wall is not only a great sight that you must see—it is a challenge to overcome.
You have very likely heard many things about the great wall: that it is the only man-and-woman-made thing which can be seen from space (which it isn’t, actually), that David Copperfield walked through it one night (which he obviously couldn’t have really done), and that people periodically try to soar over it in a non-aerial vehicle (sometimes with unfortunate results.)
But one thing that is very difficult to understand, even when you see pictures of the great wall, is just How-Steep-It-Is. When you take the average picture up or down the great wall, you see that it is steep indeed, but you don’t really get the proper feeling of vertigo that you have in real life, as if you’ve come to a great precipice and the wind might just push you to your death at the bottom of the stairs.
This photo tries to capture something of that feeling. It’s about the relationship of the stairs to the mountains and trees behind them. You have to imagine how looking down to the left actually feels more dangerous than peering over that edge at the needle-like trees far below.
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