My genetics more homogenous.........

My genetics more homogenous than my internal realities.
My experiences, varying cultures.
It's a push pull.
Fighting for supremacy.
Who's in the lead?
Which paradigms do I acquiesce to?
Which is right?
Which is wrong?
Which drives me.
& on what days?

Back living in the land of my ancestors.
Could not be more foreign to me.
I'm not at home.
Even though, if I remain silent.
Seem to fit in.
A stranger, looking like a familiar friend

The four trees in Taiwan

As the day became night.
I saw four trees.
And thought of you and me.
And religious conservatives and my mother.

On the left, the tree grew at a slant.
Then bending 60°.
Grew another slant in a different direction.
Barely keeping its weight.
Barely keeping its center of gravity.

I saw that tree and thought of me.

In the Middle.
A tree grows perfectly tall and straight.
With branches extending in every direction.
Full and lush leaves.
Standing firm.
In open embrace of the sky.
In open embrace of life.
Too Full to be narrow.
Open in every way.
Abundant, balanced, perfect symmetry.

I saw this tree and  thought of you.
How perfectly perfect you were.
How open to life, and yourself and others.
How abundant in charm, talent, and joy and sense of self.

The next tree, look like it was falling.
At a severe bent.
Unstable.
The weight of its branches and leaves unbearable.
It's trunk twisted and writhing.
Choking itself in turmoil.

I saw this tree and thought of my mother.

The last set of trees, looked exactly the same.
They were tall and straight and smooth.
Without long branches.
Only little ones, on the very top.
Like little tufts of hair, with palm size leaves growing at its ends.

I saw this very last tree – and thought of "perfect religious institutions"

          Where everything is either black or white
          Where dogma triumphs over compassion and acceptance
          Where conformism is treasured and viciously protected
          Where individualism can be seen as a threat ...

          It's institutions.....

All very straightlaced, very proper and very uniformed.
No outward flaws.
No openness, or extension to the world.
Set in its ways.
It's perfection seem to be missing something.
It's bare.

Revolving Doors We're all just passing through in this life we enter we exit in and out of each other's lives in my insular world some go through revolving doors more than others entering and leaving different places different worlds saying hello and goodbyes many times over Dear friend are you here to stay a bit? Or are you just briefly passing through my life my world or just the world in general Either Way We all go through revolving doors of different places, directions, changes of heart & changes of circumstances that lead to either intersecting or non-intersecting paths Every Heartbeat Every Second is changing is dynamic Impermanence is only surety beauty, sadness, hope, triumph and failure can be found in this place Saying hello and goodbyes many times over One thing is for sure everyone must enter and exit this worldly world From Birth To Death through the gates of the great unknown The Ultimate Revolving Door in the meantime we're going through a different more mundane more explanatory more tangible Revolving Door Strangers become friends Friends become strangers all we know for sure is the present past irrelevant future unknown

Insomnia

When the worlds asleep, the sky dark, the stillness all encompassing
the mind awake in contemplation
with nowhere to go, nobody to be
but in thoughtful ease to freely wander and to just exist in serenity.

Odes to Taiwan!

Currently, I inhabit a place.
Where deep blue night skies are starless.
Mosquitoes aboundless
where the heat is finally tolerable.
Where poor overly dressed dogs.
May find some relief.

Children run and play.
Men smoke everywhere.
The old ones like to croak and spit phlegm.
I even saw one spit phlegm indoors.

I don't understand their hygiene.

Doesn't help that  I have not lived in a city before.

Let alone a foreign one.

- - - - -

I live in a box that naturally self heats.
I sweat excessively.
My skin protests, manifesting unattractive red bumps.

I miss moderate California weather.

- - - -

Scantily clad Nokia girl.
Did you steal or borrow the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders outfit.
Your enthusiasm is bewildering to me.
Are you under the influence.
Of incentives or drugs?

Anyways, thanks for the pen and tissue paper gifts.
Go Nokia!

Taiwan FB Mosquito super short poem post!

I am the unfortunate magnet
To these unwelcomed visitors
I am The breakfast, lunch and dinner to mosquitos!

Potent Pee

How unfortunate

To make a discovery

Of potent pee

Wondering why this happened to me

is a mystery!

Thought of the day - History in High School vs. College

As I am waiting for my Chinese style bento box, protected inside from the endless smokers on the streets of Taipei, I reflect on studying history in high school versus college.

I studied History in college. But in high school, I had no interest in history. Teachers’ spoon fed students history, fact by fact.  It was hard to chew and digest this bland, dry educational substance. We saw no relevance it had to our lives. What did war or what some guy did in the past have anything to do with us? The only thing I found mildly interesting about the past was our 11th grade History teacher's comments about how the girls and guys in the 50's liked to go "parking". Sometimes, after hearing about "going parking" for the umpteenth time, I  wondered if he was a pervert, but he seemed respectful enough otherwise.

If someone told me, while I was taking the most boring class in my entire high school experience a.k.a. history that I'd become a history major, I would not have believed them and then proceed to wonder if they were smoking pot. But crazier things have happened in my life. (My apologies, I am not at liberty to disclose)
The day I changed my mind about history, was the first day of Spring Quarter in a dimly lit archaic building, in a stuffy rectangular classroom with chairs squeezed tightly next to each other.  I wasn't expecting very much.  I needed to take a history class to satisfy a general education requirement, that was all. I was planning on making this my first and last history class I would have to take.

My first ever history class blew my mind. All I wanted was an easy class to satisfy a general education requirement. I wasn't expecting very much. But, what a surprise, my Chinese History Professor showed how fascinating history could be- the struggles, the intricacies, the stories. It was like watching an actor on stage, delivering an expressive monologue showing us a different world, a fascinating one. So history wasn't just a series of facts to be memorized? Whoa, Momma. It could be dynamic; it could come alive through stories, through experiences. History was personal. History, like many other subjects, in our public schools (at least when I was going), are heavily processed and manufactured in neat little packages of facts, questions and answers. What we are taught in school isn't really what real life is. There isn't any straightforward question or answer or path. There are no cut and dry answers that fit into a nice perfect box. It's not as easy as answering a dilemma as true or false, or choosing a), b), c) or d).

I think that's one of the reasons why I don't think I want to teach at a public school. Things are too rigid, things are too defined. But Life, by its very nature, is undefined.
If you know me, you know that I love African-American history, social/Women's history and the civil rights era. For some reason, I could identify with their struggles. I guess the part of feeling disempowered, but rising above it was impressive and powerful to me. Growing up, I was fortunate to have a lot of opportunities, but I also had a lot of experiences of feeling disempowered, of constantly feeling shamed or punished for voicing my own opinions if they were not the same as my mother's. I also experienced a lot of fear and anxiety that stemmed from my mom's own personal issues. I remember one summer she was so fearful; she wouldn't let me out to play at all. I remember I gained a lot of weight summer. And I'm pretty sure I did not see the sun for three months. Laugh out loud. But I was a happy kid by nature. That one isolated experience didn't bother me, much. It was the repeated episodes of fear, anxiety and negativity that would later bog me down, but for now this isn't relevant to discuss.

What I discovered in college- history was fascinating and dynamic, but it was also a sad subject. A lot of it is about suffering, people's experience of suffering. There are many stories of people suffering and triumphing past circumstances or not triumphing or being the unlucky ones. It can be sad. It can put things in perspective. Sometimes, you can learn from some of it. You can see how a lot of history repeats itself. And history, perhaps especially through memoirs and autobiographies, can serve to inspire you or help you through hardships. Maybe you don't feel so alone after you read someone's story. These are some things that I like about history. But if I had to teach history textbook format in a traditional public school.I don't think I would like it.
I've never been the one to fit into lines of conservativism. I don't think I've ever really fit into a group, let alone to fit in as a cog in the public school machine or corporate world. But hey, life is always unexpected. You never know. And right now I need a job. Or maybe I can become a Buddhist nun. Laugh out loud.