Mayhem of an Indian street

Merry Christmas everyone!

I will be blogging my India and Nepal trip regularly. Please click to To The Tree Of Life to read about my journey and see photos.

我的頭髮短了許多；他束著小馬尾．我們提著合拍的步伐，一起走著走著回家．似乎是沒有分別過的模樣．

一星期匆匆．休息過，大家各自仍舊工作，和從前有點不一樣．以前，大家總是在旅途上，二十四小時的光蔭．這回，我有我的上學，他有他的忙碌，完了工作，大家玩家家酒，在共同的路段上有自己的行程．

沒有刻意作遊客（他），但也走上了１１８層的ICC看小島的縮影．在Ozone喝了一兩杯，在把小島的晚景也喝下．不必一陣子，便回到我的森林之家．他常說：你的森林和曼克頓相迎，很棒．

再過三來天，我們便向印度出發．另一個旅程的開始．

At Ozone, 118th Floor of ICC, HK (they said it's the highest bar in the world)

Before getting overly-excited about J’s coming, I would like to share another blog entry of my recent Happy Family Trip. Please click to To the Tree of Life  to read!

These new friends see me “out of context” and not for a long time meaning they don’t have much background information to get to know me. Because of that, some of them come out with thoughts and ideas and impressions about me that often make me laugh out loud. I wonder why I have left a certain impression.  Especially different people seem to have quite different impressions on me — some of which surprise me a lot.

“You are not the kind of girls who cry,” E, a friend’s friend, said to me during lunch. I have met her only twice.

My immediately thought in my head was “HOLY macaroni!” What part of me gives people the impression that I don’t cry. As a matter of fact, I can hardly resist tears when I see someone in tears. I don’t think I have ever heard any brides or grooms thanking their parents in a wedding without my eyes totally moist. Movies and books, in places that are sensational, pull my eyes instantly too. I can easily cry.

Yesterday in our village book club when we were sharing Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha, a British woman K asked me, “You must find it easily to accept Eastern spirituality.” I then told the group I was converted to Christianity 10 years ago, and it was indeed hard for me to take any Eastern spirituality after I was converted. “Couple years ago, if you would cut my skin, I bred Bible verses.” All of them have their jaws dropped. I seldom talk in a group about my faith journey; but if I do, I often got those looks.

Couple months ago, I had a casual gathering with my first/oil painting teacher whom I no longer take lesson from. I attended his studio for 2 years before I stopped. He met me once a week then. I was primarily painting and occasionally chatting. In the recent meeting, upon learning I don’t smoke, he said, “Dora, I thought you’re a chain-smoker, a drinker, someone who goes clubbing very weekend.”  Jesus Christ I thought. I don’t touch cigarettes, don’t really drink except every now and then a glass of white wine and clubbing is never my cup of tea. But this teacher of mine for two years thought that’s me throughout the time.

The best one comes when S assumed that the “friend” I am strongly connected to is a woman. That I have a girlfriend whom I incline to settle down with her. So in a nutshell, I am a lesbian. LOL. I really love this assumption she’s made. I take it as an honor to give her the impression as such.

Indeed, I love the fact that people often “mistake” me for what I am (not) and come up with thoughts and impressions that are almost the polar opposite of my characters.

A line in Hermann Hesse’s book says something worth pondering: “In every truth the opposite is equally true.”

In that sense, there’s something perhaps true in what they see in me, even those ideas seem to be so far off from the “truth.”

有一年，媽很忙，要弄冬至飯，也要拜神好好謝媽祖門神．忙得不可開交．一不留神，媽媽唔見左隻雞．名副其實的拜神唔見雞．

媽四處找，在樓上的樓梯口，看到一個骨瘦如柴的”道友”餓狼般吃雞．也忘了收場．那年門神好可能沒有雞吃．

從來沒有過感恩節，在沒有火雞和南瓜批的感恩節的晚上，我也安靜的在過節．

簡簡單單的感恩．

回首一年，過得很快，也很愉快．要算的恩典，很多．去年的冬天，他和我戰戰兢兢的打電話給對方．分別了一年，各自安靜了一年，一聽電話，便是六個小時沒完沒了的對話．從分離，到做回朋友（miracle），到一整年沒止的對話，到我們決定一起去旅行，看看大家的模樣．除了感恩，我也感謝彼此的耐性和接納．再過十天左右，我們便在熟悉的機場見面了．希望印度，尼泊爾，泰國之旅快快樂樂．

今年的舊雨新知份外多．因為做聯展，加深認識了ｙ.因為泊的線，扯上了新的朋友，都是那些一想便覺有如中了六合彩的朋友．早幾天，在IFC灰狗吃泰菜，一再有被寵幸的感覺．再者，覺得友誼可以長根，快高長大，多好．這年，我沒外出，所以格外有時間在朋友田野間灌溉，多好．

家庭和陸，老少平安．對於家人，我由衷的簡單的心願：老少平安．很土，但很管用．

內心，也是很感恩的一年．今年，交了最好最好的朋友叫自己．在三十五年來，今年我開始感到一種自我接納．昨天，剪了一頭短綹綹的髮．比之前的更短了．理髮的不時想我染髮，把灰白的弄黑，弄啡．我卻好想接受成長的白髮．它們沒什麼可羞家的事．不必老叫它們隱藏．

我常覺，人生的修行，不是我與你，我與他的問題，我們常以為那人有改變才有出路，或上天開路才有出路．這年，多點放在自己上．如果，我可以好好接受自己，和自己修和，是出路之始．

昨晚，看書說：”Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who prays.” (Søren Kierkegaard)

早幾天，看報說，很多人今年最快樂的事是政府派六千元．我想，我應該比一些幸運，因為我沒有去拿六千塊，內心仍是充斥著樂孜孜的音樂．

P.S. Updated traveling journals, click To The Tree Of Life to see.

In the stranger, I see me.

Between the stranger and me lies something called humanity.

To read my first blog post about my recent trip to my parents’ hometown, please click to here.

二十多年沒有回去過

十二三歲的記憶依稀

幾天很簡單的快樂

和白髮蒼蒼的老爸老媽回老家

除了感動   便是感恩

有空再送上回鄉記

好好把幸福時光記一記

Fire-crackers everywhere -- the grand opening of an ancestral hall

Had a fab time in my parents’ hometown, two decades were gone since I last visited the place: saw the deserted family home; enjoyed local delicacies; touched my 97-year-old gran; heard hours of fire-cracker-ing; hanged out with relatives that I didn’t know existing; observed the interesting rituals of the grand opening of an ancestral hall; spent time with mom and dad and sister — just great. More photos to come soon!

We were supposed to talk about planning and painting and pottery–the perimeters of our joint-exhibition. But the couple hours darted by us with barely a word mentioned. Instead, we kneaded continuously, rolled the dough flat, spooned in the ricotta and spinach fillings neatly on the dough sheet, watered the rims around the fillings, flapped another flat sheet on top, cut the little squares and forked the rims to tightness.

Every now and then, we hinted at our exhibition, but never fully waded into the domain. “From what my students told me, I realized my earlier works are better,” Yolanda said. I could sense her dissatisfaction in her recent works. “Do you agree?” I asked. “I do, at least the earlier works could touch me more.”

“Yolanda, recently I attended a workshop by an agent flown from the US.” My raviolis took awkward shapes as I continued, “I had the same uncomfortable feeling in attending this workshop as the previous two conferences I attended. You know, the more “rules” I learned, the harder I judge my works, the more I want to write to please, the less free I can write, and that inner police makes my works very dull.”

We both know that, as well as most artists do I guess. There is a place for perfection and improvement. But one thing we seem to give up as we polish our works too much, be it a piece of pottery or story, according to what the “rules of the games” learned on the passage of time — the spontaneous and creative power of art.

That’s why kids’ paintings are so awesome. Yolanda added, “But it’s not possible to be a child again.” After years of working on a field, we train ourselves to be good at doing certain things. We are so much in control that we cannot draw zigzagging  lines for a building like children sometimes do. If we do, we appear pretentious.

Perhaps we cannot be a child again. Maturity and practice are not of no value. But one can be mindful — and let the rules that flick so readily in the brain lay aside every now and then.

One has to be willing to lose control in order to truly become an artist. Painters. Potters. Parents. Pastry-makers. Pasta chefs. Print-makers. Partners. People are all artists. Living itself is a great life-long piece of artwork itself. Throughout our upbringing, we are brought to learn to build security, to gain control, and abhor uncertainty. So we live like knee-jerk reflex. Our lives somewhere become like mass copies of same piece of painting hanged in the street stalls in Stanley market. Yeah, it’s predictable. Yeah, it’s manageable. Yeah, it’s safe.

Yet, it’s so predictable, manageable and safe that we don’t get touched by it anymore.

A book I recently read gives me a little insight into the gift of uncertainty.

“Appreciating uncertainty, however, is relevant. We don’t realize the power of uncertainty. Most aspects of our culture currently lead us to try to reduce or eliminate uncertainty, which is the essence of mindlessness. We learn to do so in order to know what things are, so that we can control them. Instead, we should consider exploiting the power of uncertainty, so that we can learn what things can become and so that we can become more than we previously thought possible.” — (On Becoming An Artist — by Ellen J. Langer)