beyond broken pieces

every day i witness the fragments of a world that should not be. the car rounding the corner dangerously close to where i'm standing, blindly running the red light and rudely blaring its horn at me. the child rummaging through the trash, picking out plastic bottles under the hot afternoon sun, during the very hours that he should be in school. the young women in tight tops and short skirts, blinking zombie-like at a small flickering TV screen, caged behind glass doors, silhouettes bathed in glaring pink light.

some days, i react out of fury, cussing at heaven and earth and everyone in between. other times, my heart swings heavy, my soul weighed by the sorrow of troubles beyond my control to fix. then there are the times that i actually respond in hope. these are the times that i am able to see beyond the broken pieces to the backdrop of grace, the gently pulsating and ever-brightening glow of the world that ought to be. the times that i see the mending of the broken pieces, the tenacious weaving of shalom back into a world that refuses to give evil the final say.

over the past few days i have had the great privilege of meeting with some amazing individuals to discuss the issues surrounding migrant workers in china. imagine tens of millions of individuals uprooting from their homes and congregating in urban centers to look for work and a better way of life. imagine families being separated, children growing up without their parents, older parents who have no idea where their children are or what they are doing, husbands and wives living thousands of kilometers apart and only able to see one another perhaps once or twice a year. imagine the influx of these tens of millions into a handful of cities, the amount of stress this produces on infrastructures such as health care, education, housing, sanitation....imagine that this mass migration is occurring within the borders of one nation, not from country to country. this is the current reality in china. during the past three days, i have been shocked by statistics, moved by compelling stories of success as well as loss, challenged in my perceptions and how i am to respond. there are no easy answers, no black-and-white formulas. but there is, and always will be, hope.

to look at the issues as a complex whole is to stand in the shadow of a behemoth--a feeling that overwhelms and petrifies, preventing many of us from action. but we are not called to do grand and perfect things. we are simply called to do the next thing and the right thing.

i have been considering my future a lot lately, probably too much. wondering what the next steps should be in my career and further education, turning over and over in my mind all the options and possibilities. very me-centric, actually. being at this conference reminded me that truly, life is not about me. yes, i may be the one who lives it and makes decisions day-to-day. but ultimately, life is not about me. there is an ecosystem i'm part of, a world that when in shalom, is a beautiful and glorious place. that kind of shalom is possible when each person exists for the flourishing of others, i believe. in living for others and not self, in returning to the Creator and His creation the graces He has bestowed upon me--ironically, i am myself more than ever.

what am i called to next? no answers yet. but i know what i am called to now--what i am always called to: act justly, love mercy, walk humbly. perhaps that is enough to know...

photo taken by a sixth grade migrant student for an exhibit at our gallery last spring

cups of coffee: 2

mood: hopeful

music lesson at the blind orphanage

little fingers
that tap and rub and glide and search,
running gleefully along smooth arms and over bumps
of unfamiliar nose and cheeks.
"what is that scent?"
"what color is your shirt?"
small face tilted up,
sunflower soaking light, sound, warmth,
eyes pinched shut in two crescent curves,
sewn by some invisible Hand while bones and skin and teeth
were still being knit in the womb.

the music starts,
ripples of notes that rise and fall,
bouncing off walls,
tumbling like colorful rockets spiraling through a field at night.
head bobbing, arms waving,
hands swatting and cupping air
as if trying to catch the notes--
fireflies on a cool summer evening--
or perhaps they are dancing--
dancing with angels that ride each note,
each iridescent swirl
a twirl
out of present darkness
into ever-growing light.


cups of coffee: 1 (but instant, that doesn't count)

mood: ahhhhhhh......

one wild and precious life

this is my fifth or sixth trip to beijing and i have to admit, it's the first time that i actually really like beijing and could picture myself living here. i think it's been a combination of the amazing weather, the things we've been doing, and the people we are meeting. plus things seem to feel different post-olympics---or perhaps it's just in my head?

i have been absolutely blown away by the people i've been meeting with this week. there is the young french couple who felt a burden to help the blind orphans in china and ended up opening a foster home/training center (with a vision to open other similar centers all over asia). then there is the young american woman who started out befriending street children, taking care of them in her home, opening a school that transitioned into a home for the children and a restaurant business that employs and trains the older kids. and then there is the young asian-american woman who left a promising career in law to start an organization aimed at enriching the education and character development of migrant children through arts and sports.

it is not their resumes or wealth of knowledge that impress; in fact, all embarked on their ventures with much trepidation and little prior experience or expertise. it was seeing the need that prompted their action, and it is their faith that fuels a vision bigger than themselves and even their projects.

in listening to their stories, i couldn't help but feel a zeal and zest to do much more with my life. i'm thankful for what i've been involved in thus far, the doors of opportunities that have opened for me to serve and give. but one always feels like there is so much more that can be done....

i read this poem a couple of years ago and absolutely love the last line. my 'one wild and precious life'....may not a breath be wasted.

The Summer Day

Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

cups of coffee: 1

mood: inspired

a bit of confession, a bit of a rant

we women are a controlling bunch. there, i said it.

it's something i've always known about myself (as much as i'd like to deny, justify, hide it) and something i've come to notice more and more in others of my kind.

in coordinating a few different events lately, i've noticed how often other women will double-check, triple-check, quadruple-check on different details by asking multiple questions or sending me emails to "kindly" remind me of various obvious things.

now here's the tricky part. it's one thing to be conscientious, especially in terms of your job or given responsibilities. it's one thing to be detail-oriented, thorough, meticulous to the point of mad when you want to accomplish an assigned task at hand that affects other people. but it's another thing to be overly attentive with details that do not concern you, with someone else's task, with telling another person how to do their job. ok, there i go with the ranting.....

why do we do this??? i know it's something that drives men crazy. i can just picture adam in the garden, rolling his eyes and succumbing to eating the fruit just to quiet eve's insistence.

i know why i do it: lack of trust. not trusting other people or even the Almighty to do their job...correctly. somehow in my pathetic arrogance, believing that i am more capable of getting the job done than others. yech.

the older i get, the more i think life is more enjoyable when you live in a constant state of surrender. letting things slide off your back and walking around with two hands wide open.

maybe i need to grease up my back.


cups of coffee: 1

mood: playful

sunny days...

three women in zhongshan park

three little old chinese women

lolling about in the branches of two low trees

languid and laughing, backs stretched

over slightly arching limbs

hammock-style, squinting up into the blue canopy sky.

one catches my eye

and smiles a toothless grin

while she sways side-to-side

scratching her back

like some docile bear.

cups of coffee: 2

mood: yay! spring is here

what inspires

along this present theme of inspiration, g asked a good question at our last community arts group gathering: "who and what inspire you in your work?"

hmmmmm. off the top of my head:

1) melancholy folksy type music tinged with hope and strewn with thoughtful lyrics. namely, groups like the weepies. i also discovered david mead recently and absolutely love him. there's something comforting about his music.... my favorite song of his is "little boats."

2) john donne. i discovered him in high school and have been in love with his poetry ever since. his holy sonnets are absolutely beautiful. my favorite is "batter my heart, three-person'd God":

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

man. i want to write and speak and pray like that.

3) speaking of dead guys i'm into, saint augstine! if i could have a dead saint boyfriend (ok, i know that's weird on many levels), it would be augustine hands-down! i read from a collection of prayers from his 'confessions' daily and each reading is like a new breath that infuses passion into my own prayer life. wow.

i'm pretty sure if augustine were alive today, we'd be friends. :)

4) old people, in general. i love, love, love seeing an elderly couple shuffling down the street holding hands. gets me every time. something so poignant, enduring yet fragile about the image. a whole lifetime of joys and sorrows, victories and regrets, wisdom and experience framed in those two frail bodies. i love looking into their faces as well, peering through the lines and creases to catch the light in their eyes.

5) the cello. if i could have a do-over, i would have learned cello instead of violin. the sound is so rich and full, i actually feel my ribs and heart expanding when i hear a cello being played. and especially when the instrument is in the hands of a virtuoso such as yo-yo ma--man, that's heaven. i suppose i love the cello because the range and sound is so close to a human's voice. and the music that comes out of a cello articulates for me what i find inadequate with words.

so.
what inspires you?

cups of coffee: 1

mood: warm and cozy

inspired

just returned a few days ago from a(nother) whirlwind trip to the states. this time, the main purpose was to attend the IAM encounter, but of course squeezed in as many meals and late nights with friends as possible. :)

swung by boston first and then a stay in nyc that was extended by a snowstorm (i did not complain).

a few memorable moments from the trip....

reunion of china friends in boston


catching up with mindy and carrie


massive reunion of china friends in nyc

we love red mango!!!

i've been feeling inspired lately--i suppose a combination of attending the IAM encounter, reading more poetry, and being held accountable by our community arts group to be creative and creating. the inspiration has found an outlet mainly in poetry, and writing and reading more poetry has been both relaxing and nourishing. it's also enabling me to process more and to give shape and some clarity to the jumble of feelings and thoughts often bumbling around inside me.

here's a poem i wrote today about an incident that happened this morning:


Street Scene - Shanghai

On my way to the bus stop this morning,
I saw a woman attack a man with a stool.
She hurled the wooden block with such fierce fury,
so much rage for a middle-aged Chinese lady.

He was a young man,
sitting in a newspaper kiosk,
shielded behind a wall of magazines,
pearly smiles that could not
protect him from a fearsome blow.

What had he done to ignite her anger?
Did he insult her, offend her, ignore her,
cause some kind of irreparable hurt
that would result in her picking up that lonely stool--
three slabs of wood hewn with little regard--
and catapult it towards his head
with unforgiving accuracy?

And what of the curses that rained from her curled lips,
the stool landing with a THUD on the pavement,
the crowds watching, silent, motionless,
and the young man,
who woke up this morning
and all he wanted to do
was sell newspapers
and go home.


cups of coffee: 3

mood: excited!