existential crises

What's your favorite season to have an existential crisis?
Summer's mine, hands down.

I think it's because it feels so unexpected in the summer....you're eating ice cream, swimming in the ocean, drinking on a rooftop, strolling in the park... and all of a sudden you're contemplating the point of it all - what is life, anyway? - and realizing that the sea of people surrounding you, enjoying sunshine and loved ones - every single person will die someday.

So summery, right?

I find having an existential crisis on the most beautiful of days, in the season filled with the most sunlight, strangely comforting. It's as if somehow, all this beauty - painfully wonderful beauty - is at once reality and not. That to be fully present is to also embrace the fleetingness of it all - that all we know is what we know, but it's not all there is. It's sobering, even as I feel drunk with the sweet languidness of these days, thick as the humid air that drips off my skin.

I've seen an increased frequency of existential crises this past year, due to a couple of factors. One, I turned 40. I know 40 is the new 30, blah blah blah, but there's a perspective shift that comes (maybe it's connected to my slowing metabolism and slightly tilting hormones?) with rounding the fourth decade of life. I'm officially over FOMO. I feel at home in my skin and the spots, wrinkles, and extra pounds that it comes with. I care less about where and who I will be someday but more concerned with where and who I am right now.

Two, I celebrated one year of marriage. Being married has expanded my heart in ways I never imagined. The love overwhelms me - which is also frightening. How is my heart capable of loving someone so much - and what is the depth of this vulnerability? What do you do with all this love, especially with our inevitable mortality?

The older I get, the less I know. The more I question. But what I do know - it feels more sure. And I feel ever more grateful - even when thinking about death on a beautiful summer day.

bit of a recap

happy (belated) new year!
almost six months since my last post, feels like a lost cause trying to catch up. life has been nothing short of busy, breathless, sometimes frenetic but always interesting. it's hard to imagine that less than three years ago, i moved to nyc knowing only a handful of friends and carrying nothing but a few suitcases and a whole lotta hope. my, how the good Lord has blessed me again and again with open doors and timely provisions. grateful doesn't even begin to describe it.

in short, in the last six months:
- work has challenged and pushed me in all sorts of ways and directions. i've been privileged to manage art projects that have been featured on npr, in nytimes, wall street journal....
- i've been settling down slowly but surely at redeemer presbyterian as my home church here. putting down roots is not easy in a city as fast-paced, transient and commitment-cautious as new york, but i'm forcing myself.
- along those lines, i'm figuring out what it means to really live here. grad school didn't feel like real life here - now it's starting to feel like real life. but finding rhythms and patterns is tough - it feels like the pace and volume of work often leave very little margin. and there's always something to do and someone to catch up with. even my "off" days can feel very much "on."
- i started dating this really great guy. i've never been so happy....and i'm turning into a sap. :)

for a better snapshot of the last few months, here are actual snapshots.....

(all photos taken by author, not to be used or reproduced without permission) 

cups of coffee:  2

mood:  joy

all that is gold

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

river of gold, instagram, me

cups of coffee:  2

mood:  pensive

 

unexpected beauty

this is a view from the office where i work....and this picture was one of those one-in-a-million shots on a day when the lighting was perfect. i actually gasped when i saw this and scrambled to grab my iphone and snap a shot before the moment passed. completely unadulterated, no filter.

unexpected beauty. thank God life is full of these moments.

also - i'm obsessed with the old water towers in this city. OBSESSED. i'm often in danger of tripping over my own feet when i'm walking down the street because i can't stop looking up to admire these remnants from another age, perched like ancient guards, watching this city speed along.


cups of coffee:  3

mood:  busy busy

circus

the circus, marc chagall

sometimes, this is what life feels like....colorful, chaotic, melancholic undertones but also achingly beautiful....strange sadness mixed with delight....

two more weeks until this current grueling schedule ends.

four more weeks until i hand in the *final* draft of my thesis.

mood:  wistful

cups of coffee:  2

l'amour

meditating on some great quotes by c.s. lewis on love:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves 

"A woman's heart should be so close to God that a man should have to chase Him to find her" - C.S. Lewis 

and listen to this magnificent piece of music: "oblivion" by astor piazzolla.

sheer eargasm.

cups of coffee:  2

mood:  sunny days! 

weekend fun

brunch with dear friends
the whitney biennale (meh.)
keith haring at the brooklyn museum (wow!)

my cup is full and overflowin'.

cups of coffee:  3

mood:  waiting

spirit of food

i first mentioned the spirt of food back in september and am finally getting around to reading it. absolutely sumptuous: eloquent storytelling, deep spiritual insights, and truths small and simple but richly profound. 34 writers exploring the connections between community and God through food. i cannot stop raving about this book - it is akin to eating a delicious meal that you wish would never end and one that you want all your friends to partake in.

each chapter (an individual essay) provides so much fodder for thoughtful digestion. here's one of my favorite passages, quoting from robert farrar capon's (a talented chef and episcopalian priest) book, the supper of the lamb:

"For all its greatness, the created order cries out for further greatness still. The most splendid dinner, the most exquisite food, the most gratifying company, arouse more appetites than they satisfy. They do not slake a man's thirst for being; they whet it beyond all bounds."

the whetting of our appetites, the insatiable desire that longs beyond the things of this world for something more glorious and everlasting....this is the holy hunger of mankind - the hunger for God Himself. the hunger for beauty that bursts the very seams of our metaphorical bellies, desiring for the thing that fills us to rapturous overflowing.

in our fallen world, what we experience is what capon terms "the inconsolable heartburn":
"The Inconsolable Heartburn...by which the heart looks out astonished at the world and in its loving, wakes and breaks at once." the longing for the here and not yet.

this passage from the chapter written by karen baldwin sums up the essence behind my love for food and hospitality:

"On nights like that night in Colorado, we've orchestrated dinners for a crowd of our children's friends, and on other nights we've eaten a quiet meal with just the two of us. And in the same spirit of openness, invitation and hospitality we like to begin each meal by thanking God and lifting our friends up before the one who invites us to come and eat of the bread of life that he gives. Our friends may not share our deepest convictions, they may not understand the great significance we place in this time at the table, but we can't recall any expectant mothers or anxious students declining our request to pray for them. So we never feel timid about raising a glass of wine or a plate heaped with fragrant food, and then, with simple gratitude and joy, extolling the Creator who celebrated his creative power and genius by resting and blessing his handiwork. And as we say amen, we recognize that in our Creator's image, we have also completed a work of preparation, and so we enter into a celebration-rest together at the table where there is both food to nourish our bodies and fellowship to revive our souls."

- karen baldwin, the spirit of food

cups of coffee:  1 + 1 green tea with lemon

mood:  hungry

springtime in beijing

three days, two nights...one last trip to beijing before i leave china.
overnight trains, peking duck, crowded subways, summer palace, skewer of fried scorpions, speakeasy bar, meeting up with friends old and new.
delightful.

 our lovely courtyard hostel

 beautiful day - outside forbidden city

 forbidden city

 lovely old door in a hutong neighborhood

 first bite!

 eating our way through the famous wangfujing night market

fabulous spring afternoon at the summer palace

beijing - i admit you've won me over. but i'll always be a shanghai girl at heart.

cups of coffee: 2 + 2 green tea

mood:  going strong

all so beautiful

this past weekend was one for the books. one might even call it 'epic'. it started with hanneke's celtic fusion fiddle concert to a crowd of 200+ on friday evening, rolling into a rowdy karaoke night until the wee hours, complete with interpretive dancing and live violin accompaniment on coldplay's "viva la vida." saturday started leisurely and then continued at a lazy pace all afternoon at a bathhouse. saturday night was catching up with the bro and sis-in-law while watching 'community' and 'the office' and feasting on mediterranean takeout. after church on sunday, i gorged on red wine and meat at a friend's brazilian bbq house party, then jumped, swung and twirled my way through a repertoire of scottish dances at another friend's birthday ceilidh. the weekend capped off with an amazing dinner at a xinjiang restaurant, washed down with black beer (a xinjiang specialty) and lots of laughter around a large table.

wow.

the whole weekend was such a gorgeous display of friends, family, food, love, music, dance, joy and all the delightful moments that compose a life well-lived. the joy was contagious: from feet stomping and hands clapping at hanneke's concert; to strangers-cum-friends bonding over heaping plates of black beans with rice and steak at the bbq; to my friend beaming as he celebrated his 38th year of life with an adoring wife, a new baby daughter, and buddies decked out in kilts and toasting him with whiskey....it was all so beautiful.

i felt this tender melancholy strain of unbearable beauty - all these wonderful moments that, as lovely as they were, had to end at some point. all these wonderful joys that point to this longing to experience them forever.

mourning with those who mourn, rejoicing with those who rejoice - we have such capacity for joy and sorrow, for beauty and brokenness. our hearts are too big for these mortal cages.

cups of coffee:  2

mood:  peaceful

extra-extra-ordinary

the other night, i was walking to the supermarket when i happened upon two street sweepers in a moment of reverie. they were sitting on the curb of a dimly-lit street, in the shadow that straddled two staggered lampposts, while their sweeping carts were parked precisely, one behind the other, with the broom handles jaunting out like the masts on a ship. between them sat a small transistor radio, and the two middle-aged men, sitting at arm's length apart, were quiet except for the strains of chinese opera wailing from the shared radio. motionless, the men were turned towards each other but their gazes were directed upward, as if watching the performance unfold on some invisible stage suspended above the other's head. they didn't notice me passing by and pausing briefly to take in their scene; it was as if their entire beings were absorbed in that moment, in the music, in the story being played out by the characters on the radio.

in many ways, it was a mundane moment: two workers taking a break, two individuals sitting on a street where hundreds pass on any given day. yet there was also something so lovely, so poignant - sublime, even - about this moment, as if behind this very ordinary scene was something more wondrous being played out. it was as if those two men were connecting, through the music, with each other in a way beyond routine interaction, and connecting with the world, with their souls, with some greater sense of the spiritual, in a way that was transcendental. it was as if their gazes in the air caught a glimpse of eternity. 

this morning, some friends and i were dissecting a sermon we just listened to during church. part of the discussion revolved around this idea of the extraordinary vs. ordinary. we who are christians often enter the church expecting so much more than what reality offers. we expect christians to be better people, and when the foibles and flaws of our brothers and sisters hit us, they often hit us hard and we are left disappointed. we personally want to be special and when confronted with our own ordinariness, we respond with denial, discouragement or defiance. our hearts long for so much more.

i definitely struggle with this, to the point where i repel from anything that reeks of 'ordinary', almost by reflex. everything must be extraordinary: life is too short for the mundane. it really becomes an idolatry and idealization of a life less ordinary.

the reality of course is not an "either....or" situation. it is not valuing one over the other, but somehow seeing the integration and validity of both. we should expect and long for the extraordinary; after all, we were created to experience and be so much more. the fallenness of this world and of ourselves will result in frustration, but the frustration should fuel the flames of our hope and longing for the world redeemed with greater fervor. and if there exists a God who can part the seas and raise the dead, then those of us who follow Him and profess faith should expect nothing less than miracles and wonders. a stance of awe and eager anticipation should not be an anomaly; it should be the norm.

on the other hand, nothing is truly mundane. in every gesture, every moment, even in every daily chore, there lies the potential for an act of worship, for the sacred to pervade. work has purpose, relationships are rich, the patterns of our life are significant. nothing is without meaning. beauty is everywhere.

a life both extraordinary and ordinary. reveling in the ideal as well as the seemingly plain.

ah, the paradoxes of the life redeemed. i love it.


cups of coffee:  2

mood: chill

faith in the useless

here's a very well-crafted reflection by my friend and colleague justin on mako's recent visit and our ensuing trip to nanjing.

"faith in the useless: art as a space for reconciliation"

read it. you'll be glad you did.


cups of coffee: 2 + 2 green tea

mood:  antsy

feasting

i love food. love it. always have, always will. it's not just the eating - though that's pretty spectacular - it's everything associated with a meal. i love the preparation: mulling over recipes, shopping for all the right ingredients, visiting the vegetable market with tote in hand, checking the leafy freshness of spinach, squeezing tomatoes, picking through bulbs of red onions... i LOVE the cooking process. i love rolling up my sleeves and getting my hands caked in everything from flour to oil to spices and the occasional meat juices. i love the sounds of cooking: the quick sizzle of oil on a hot pan, the gentle murmur that crescendoes into aggressive bubbling of boiling water, the comforting grind of the pepper mill. and the smells - oh, the SMELLS! i love knowing a dish so well that you know, intuitively by the smell, whether it's ready or not. i love setting the table and selecting the right serving dishes, the clink of silverware and pristine white of my matching plates.

most of all, i love the company and conversations that surround meals. i was raised in a family where we always had dinner together, no matter how busy everyone was. it was always around the dinner table, never in front of the television. it was an unwritten rule in our home that dinner was always enjoyed with loved ones and served with conversation.

i love that my parents instilled that value in me, and i suppose that's where my inclination for hospitality arose. it's hard to think of a good meal without the company of good friends. strangers may sit down at the table, but rarely do you leave a table without having built some rapport. it's no wonder that in traditional cultures, deals are made and promises sworn at the banquet table.

i was reminded of this when mako was in town. during our trip to nanjing, the chair of the international program at nanjing arts institute invited our group for a meal. the restaurant was tucked down an inconspicuous lane, hid in an ultra-modern building sleek with glass and steel. the restaurant served chinese cuisine though it was decked out in uber-luxe faux-art-deco-meets-victorian-era decor. imagine plush purple velvet lounge couches with giant chandeliers. and four birthday balloons drooping on one wall, forlornly out of place.

the food was served with great attention to detail and attempts at artistic flair: sweet and sour chicken served in half a pineapple emflambe, succulent chicken deboned (a rarity in china), and an interesting combination of a meat pastry with a sweet sesame dessert soup, to name a few memorable dishes. but it wasn't the food that stuck out to me, delicious as it was. what stayed with me from that luncheon was the courtesy displayed, the respect and mutual admiration exhibited by the parties involved.

working in the chinese art world for a few years has taught me several invaluable skills including the art of holding my liquor at dinner parties. i've had to make and accept many a toast from museum officials, distinguished guests, artists, etc., and when the chinese toast, a sign of respect is to empty your glass. no one ever gets embarrassingly sloshed from such behavior, but most do turn lobster red after a meal (thanks to that asian drinking gene most of us have inherited....).

this particular luncheon was no different. there is an art involved, a dance i've had to learn to perfect (and am still perfecting). always aim your glass low - it's a sign of respect. a toast always ends up like some sort of glassware limbo, trying to outdo each other in how low you clink your glass. the host usually starts with some general toast to everyone, and then begins to singularly toast the guests in some sort of hierarchy (usually working from most important, or most essential to the event at hand, down). the toasts are scattered throughout the meal, so you wait and watch. and then it's your turn to reciprocate, and the polite thing is to toast those who've toasted to you, in a similar order. and of course, you can toast anyone else you want as well - it's a form of bestowing favor and respect. but you also have to gauge the toastee's glass. since they will want to honor you by emptying their glass, i try to time my toast with the level of their drink - too high and it may end messy, too low and it's not much of a toast.

after plenty of toasting and kind words at the luncheon, we left the table with relationships established and agreements made. though no papers were signed, no official partnerships were formed, there was an air of understanding that there will be future collaborations and a level of trust had been reached.

food builds community and was meant to be enjoyed in community. every feast we indulge in points to a perfect, beautiful feast we will enjoy for all of eternity. it's not only the food we'll enjoy but perfect, beautiful fellowship and unbroken communion with God and one another. what a lovely thing. :)

one last note - two recent publications on this theme of food worth savoring:

- The Spirit of Food: i found out about this book through the Image Journal's newsletter. from organic farms to kosher kitchens, 34 writers share stories and recipes about the ways food draw us closer to community, God and creation. i've already placed an order and can't wait to read it!

- Saveur Magazine: 25 Greatest Meals Ever: 25 food writers share their most memorable food experiences, including some recipes.


cups of coffee: 1 + 2 green tea

mood:  o joy!

enlarge my heart

this has been a most amazing week - busy, to say the least, but in a wonderful, fulfilling, mind-blowing-cup-overflowing sort of way.

we are so honored to host mako fujimura this week and to hold his first exhibition in china (opening this afternoon!). things are blessedly under control, which explains why i'm able to take time to blog on the morning of an exhibit opening. :)

last night was a wonderful dinner with mako and members of our arts group - feast for the stomach and the soul. as an artist, writer and creative catalyst, mako is a strong advocate for arts education. one member of our group asked, "what if you're passionate about the arts and creating art but frankly, you're just not really good?" mako had an honest and thoughtful response - he pointed out the purpose of educating one in the arts may not necessarily be to cultivate oneself to be the next picasso or shakespeare. mako emphasized that art enlarges our capacity for empathy, that's why the arts are important. when you watch a play, you can't help but step inside the characters' lives and feel their joys and sorrows. when you hear a beautiful piece of music, your heart automatically rises and falls with the notes and you transcend your circumstances to be part of something grander and universal. when you look at at a work of art, you catch beauty and truth that may either affirm or question certain assumptions you hold about the world as you know it. art causes you to step outside of yourself, even if briefly, and simultaneously reminds you of your humanity and the greater humanity in which you participate.

as a writer, empathy has always been one of the virtues i strive to encompass in my work. i suppose that's why i chose to study journalism at university: i was attracted by the imperative responsibility of sharing the stories of others. every person carries in them a beautiful narrative, and all these stories weave together as a bigger, glorious narrative. we were created to be storytellers and storybearers - i think in sharing stories, we better understand ourselves and the world we inhabit.

but we, selfish creatures that we are, long for greatness. we want to make a name for ourselves, for our art to be immortal. we forget that we ourselves were meant to be eternal beings. we turn inward and riddled with doubts and fears, we strive to protect and promote ourselves. yet we were not made for greatness - we were made for grandeur. we were meant for a world more brilliant and beautiful than the world we know, we are more than what can be contained by this frame of flesh and bones. we were meant to worship something grander than ourselves.

art can remind us of that. art carries us beyond tangible, visible realities to a greater reality we sense but are often too timid or scared to touch. art expands our imagination and enlarges our heart to gasp and grasp at the Mystery. and when that happens, we can't help but forget ourselves.


cups of coffee: 1

mood: mind percolating like a coffeemaker on overtime

a million words

gorgeous, gorgeous, GORGEOUS wedding photos from kelly, photographer extraordinaire.

speechless.

enjoy:   www.klimagery.com/lisaandpeter


cups of coffee: 2

mood: rested

manifesto

a friend just posted this on her facebook...i love wendell berry.

"every day do something that won't compute." a beautiful and thoughtful poem to inspire the week ahead.



Wendell Berry - Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion -- put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

mission accomplished

i did it. i completed 'the goethe project'....give or take a few days. for the most part, i blogged every day for the past 30 days, reflecting on beauty and meaning through some aspect of art, music or literature.

what did i learn from this practice?

1) beauty is everywhere. everywhere. this is nothing new but all too easily forgotten. as cheesy as it sounds, sometimes we really are too busy to stop and smell the roses. maybe we begin to find the roses annoying, or we just tell ourselves we hate roses anyway. and we barrel onwards, frantic and frazzled.

this past month was one of the craziest months i've ever experienced, in the sense that all things personal and professional culminated in one massive consuming storm of a schedule. how fitting that the goethe project forced me to stop and meditate each day--even for a few minutes, on things beautiful and life-giving.

2) insight comes with discipline and the rigor of intentionality. surface observation is easy: the grass is green, the water is cold, the cat is fat. but to connect the dots between the details, to analyze and slice through the obvious to reveal the core - that is quite challenging. i sometimes have the eyes to see but not the heart to feel. other times, i feel things strongly but totally miss the forest for the trees. i think practicing both capacities in tandem and learning to give things time (such a valuable trait!) builds insight.

3) both beauty and despair point to the world that ought to be. both feed the sour ache inside us, the longing to be where all this beauty comes from or where sorrow and despair have no place.

4) it's fun to be writing more consistently again, even it's just a blurb here and there.


i hope to be blogging more...even if not daily, then at least more frequently. more than that, i hope this practice began building a more consistent habit of appreciation and meditation particularly in the throes of busyness.


on another note, happily searching through amazon.com for books i want to purchase this summer when i'm home. here's what i have so far:

voluntary simplicity: toward a way of life that is outwardly simple, inwardly rich

a way of working: the spiritual dimension of craft

the $12 million stuffed shark: the curious economics of contemporary art

four seasons in five senses: things worth savoring (i am especially excited about this book - reminds me of writing assignments in college where we had to write descriptively about mundane activities such as making a peanut butter sandwich, eating a peach, etc.)

hmmmm. apparently all the books i want to get are non-fiction and possess super-long titles.


cups of coffee: 1 1/2

mood:  fidgety

sense of wonder

just read a wonderful chapter on being observant in lamott's bird by bird.

thought-provoking excerpt:

I honestly think in order to be a writer, you have to learn to be reverent. If not, why are you writing? Why are you here?
Let's think of reverence as awe, as presence in and openness to the world. The alternative is that we stultify, we shut down. Think of those times when you've read prose or poetry that is presented in such a way that you have a fleeting sense of being startled by beauty or insight, by a glimpse into someone's soul. All of a sudden everything seems to fit together or at least to have some meaning for a moment. This is our goal as writers, I think; to help others have this sense of--please forgive me--wonder, of seeing things anew, things that can catch us off guard, that break in on our small, bordered worlds. When this happens, everything feels more spacious.

- Anne Lamott

strict joy

gray skies, cool breeze...a day when the city seems to be muffled by clouds. i have the whole day off and i intend on doing nothing but sleeping, reading, writing and eating. ahhhhhhhhh.

perfect day to listen to the swell season's most recent album, 'strict joy.'

glen hansard and marketa irglova of the swell season were thrust into the limelight after the unanticipated wild success of the movie (and soundtrack) 'once'. as much as i love the 'once' soundtrack, i am head-over-heels enamored by 'strict joy'. besides the sheer musical brilliance and lyrical poignancy of the songs, the whole theme of the album is compelling. the name of the album of comes from a poem penned by irish novelist and poet james stephens. the poem is called "strict care, strict joy!", which you can read in full here.

my favorite stanza from the poem:

For, as he meditated misery

And cared it into song—strict care, strict joy!

Caring for grief he cared his grief away:

And those sad songs, tho' woe be all the theme,

Do not make us grieve who read them now

—Because the poet makes grief beautiful.

the basic thread of the poem is the outworking of grief, sorrow and disappointments into things of beauty and gold. the album follows the same strain--the transformation of sorrow into joy, the intentionality that it takes and the willingness to address the sorrow and not bypass or stifle it. for a great brief explanation about the album, click here.

it's the thrust of life, isn't it? how we as broken, fallen creatures so desperately crave for wholeness. how we long for our mourning to turn into gladness and our weeping into dancing. how we desire to go through the fire and come out on the other side not destroyed but refined, made stronger and purer as finest gold.


cups of coffee: 1 1/2

mood: recuperating

of food and friendship

it goes without saying that good food and friendship are part of the beauty to be enjoyed and savored. that for me is often the most tangible reminder of the beautiful that God has implanted in my soul.

tonight was a great celebration of both. the evening started off with a farewell dinner for gina, who is moving back to the states with her husband and children after several years in shanghai. gina (also a fellow blogger) is someone i don't get to see often but i always enjoy my times with her. she is always quick to flash a radiant smile, and i find her to be encouraging, caring, funny and so, so genuine.

twelve of us gathered in a cozy back table at whisk and feasted on pasta, pizza and chocolate...lots of chocolate. i had a late lunch so wasn't terribly hungry, and i opted to spend my calories on a deliciously smooth and rich chocolate mousse. my friend phyllis ordered churros, which are basically spanish doughnuts, and they came with this delightful setup:


i love the tiny whisk to stir up the chocolate sauce as it melts!

the women at this dinner are all very lovely, but i confess, i sort of feel disconnected when i'm with them sometimes. they're all married (i was the only single), most of them have kids, so their worlds revolve around diapers and feedings, playtimes in the park, naps, homework and school...and whatever else women are focused on when they have kids. i spend my time working, attending parties and openings, hanging out with artists and musicians and other creatively inclined folks (who are for the most part single)....and i take care of a cat. i have a few close friends in the group that i get to see quite a bit of, and we always have a lot to talk about. but when we're all together like this...i honestly feel like i'm grasping for conversation topics sometimes.

the beauty, though, lies in the fact that my friendship with these women extends beyond similar circumstances. though we may be in different seasons of life with different priorities and stresses, there is still a connection, a commonality of heart and love for this city and the people who dwell here. there is a common desire to do good and see goodness grow here. there is concerted effort to love others well.

after the dinner, i met up with gallerists from around shanghai for drinks. this is a monthly (realistically, more like every other month) gathering, and someone from the group of gallerists usually rallies everyone to meet up. he/she makes the arrangement for some restaurant/bar to give us a discount on drinks. there's probably about 40-50 people on the email list, and turnout varies at each gathering. tonight was a nice turnout - about 30 of us sipping wine and chit chatting on the patio at cotton's, enjoying the rare coolness of a spring shanghai evening.

i admit, i was reluctant to join these gatherings at first. i assumed it would be a cloud of pretension: interest in conversation as a thin veneer covering self-promotion. i couldn't have been more wrong. i found these gatherings to be very casual and stimulating, with very fascinating people genuinely interested in getting to know one another. it's a wonderfully diverse group: a french woman who is a leading world expert on street art; a german woman single-handedly running a city-wide art map that covers all local exhibition openings; a british man who started his own gallery in china after working for years in auction houses in london, to name a few.

and we don't just talk about art. tonight, conversations i had ranged from the effects of globalization and modernization on shanghai to chinese humor vs. british humor, the two big T taboos in china (tibet and taiwan) to the possibility of learning true objective history.

two very different groups of friends, very different conversation topics. but at the end of the day, both serve as beautiful reminders of our need to be connected, to celebrate and simply converse about the things that matter.


cups of coffee: 3

mood: pensive