I couldn't sleep, and this is what was wandering around in my head...
First off, as much as I'd love to be original, the aka thing I stole from Creation is Crucifixion. What a great band.
Let's start off with a random fact: approximately 107 billion people have lived on planet earth so far. I didn't know this while I couldn't sleep, but as I laid in bed I was imagining billions and billions of timelines for all the people that have ever lived on this planet. These timelines could be decades long for the people that made it into old age; incredibly short for those that never made it out of infancy or died very young; and everything in between. In my little vision, none of these timelines were a straight line. Instead they created a weaving, intricate web that involved all of their interactions with every human being they'd ever met and/or encountered. These interactions could be as coworkers, family, lovers, classmates, randomly walking by someone on the street, being served or serving someone at a bar/coffee shop/restaurant, and on and on and on. What I was thinking the most about, though, were the encounters that eventually lead to friendship.
Quick, relevant, diversion:
Facebook provides some interesting opportunities. Living abroad, it's great for keeping in touch with people back home. It's also provides the chance to connect with old classmates and childhood friends, some of whom I've had little or no contact with for 20 years or more. For most of them, when I see them post something, I'm struck by how there's still an overlap in interests that would make friendship really easy to resume if we were living in the same city. As a kid, I thought I was choosing my friends because they let me play Nintendo at their house, wanted to shoot hoops, or maybe ride bikes. However, throughout my time in school there were plenty of kids that liked riding bikes, playing video games, and shooting hoops, but I was only friends with a very small number of them. It's fascinating to think that even from a young age there is likely a lot more to how we choose our friends than we might understand at the time.
Back to my web:
At the advent of humanity as we know it the web was very small and likely uncomplicated. As each new timeline started for each person to make an appearance on earth, the web would continue to grow larger and more complicated, all the way up to the present where there are around 7 billion timelines that are starting, works in progress, and stopping. For each individual, their timeline will only intersect with an incredibly small percentage of that 7 billion. In general we can imagine it as a bell curve, in the sense that some people will interact with a lot more people, some a lot less, and there's probably a general number that starts coming close to an average. Google actually had surprising little to say about the subject, but I did see one web page that suggests that if you live to 90, you might meet around 100,000 people in your lifetime, and that was supposedly being generous.
Think about your own life, and how many of those 100,000 people will ever be your friends at any point in your life, and then break it down further to how many will actually be life long friends that you know you can always count on. It likely comes down to a number that you can count on one or two hands. If you can add your toes, than you are likely someone very special. Basically, out of the billions of people on this planet, we will only interact with a very small percentage of them, and of that small percentage, it's an incredibly tiny percentage that we will call friends.
Going even further, when you think about the 107 billion people that have called this planet home, and every choice that they ever made, which resulted in the incredibly vast sequence of events that resulted in you being born, and the incredibly vast sequence of events that led to your friends being born, and everything that had to happen so that you ended up in the same city, and/or went to the same school, or had the same friends, or happened to travel to the same destination, to me it's amazing that we ever met at all, and even better that we became friends (and this is where it gets a little harder to write). I usually try to avoid words like fate and destiny, but as I lay in bed thinking last night, I was got caught up in the fact that everything that has happened that led me to that exact moment, absolutely had to happen, otherwise that moment wouldn't exist. But it did exist, so everything that has happened, had to happen. Sorry, that is super redundant. But when I think about the people closest to me, if I try to subtract one of them from the equation, then every moment from that time on is different, which means that nothing else that has happened since that meeting could ever happen. The conclusion being that I was meant to meet every one that I have met (By the way, I'm aware of the circles I'm typing myself around).
The point being:
I guess that's what I mean by retroactive destiny. For those who have impacted my life the most, I wasn't thinking about fate bringing us together in the moment. Though, if I was in my early 20s, I was likely stoned, and probably should have. However, you have now become an inextricable part of my timeline, and none of the person I am, or where I am now is possible without you. I think that is one other thing that friendship does. We all have our own timeline, but as we go, we leave and collect imprints, a shadow of sorts, on those that really touch our lives that we carry with us as we go. There are so many of you that have left your mark on me, and I carry that with me always.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
夜晚的時候所有的河水看起來美麗 (aka looking on the bright side)
A quick note before I begin here. I was on the MRT today and had to stifle a chuckle when I saw the look on an old man's face when a rather eclectically dressed young man walked by. Imagine a jaw drop mixed with eyes of pure bewilderment. I got a couple odd looks myself after being unable to contain the wide grin that spread across my face. Generational gaps know no cultural boundaries.
A couple weeks ago I finally made it back to 永和區, the district in 新北市 where Andrea and I lived during Taiwan, round one. There's a part of me that will remember living there fondly, but after a quick stroll around, I'm glad to have found a new home in 大同區. The main purpose of my visit to 永和 was to reconnect with our friends who run a Korean restaurant near our old apartment. After dinner and a visit I started making my way home. At first I figured I'd walk to 頂溪站 and take the MRT. However, after twenty minutes of walking along 中正路 and observing the new and the unchanged of the last fourteen months, I realized I wanted to keep going. Walking around Taipei at night has been a source of consistent joy for me, as the heat of the day has dissipated and the city is still a flurry of activity consisting of night markets, various forms of commerce, and the seemingly never ending stream of cars and scooters carrying passengers to their intended destinations.
I continued past 頂溪站 knowing that 中正橋 was not too much further down the way. This has been one of my favorite bridges to cross at night as it provides stunning views of Taipei, and the 新店溪 transforms from a river saturated with the runoff of the city (Portland people, think of the Willamette before the big pipe after a heavy rain on a cloudy day), to a weaving line of obsidian reflecting the lights of the city. I love it.
At this point I was thinking that I could cross the bridge and walk a little bit further to 古亭站 and take the MRT from there. It would be a good walk, and I'd still get home early enough to wind down and get to bed early so that I could wake up at 6am on a Sunday morning to go play tennis. These were my thoughts as I was crossing the bridge until I saw the riverfront path beckoning me from below. Taipei has miles of paths following the 淡水河, and it's tributaries like the 新店溪; they are especially welcoming at night as they are well lit and there is a steady stream of cyclists and pedestrians, people playing basketball and tennis, and friend and family gatherings well into the evening.
Oops. Somebody hit the pause button...
...for more than seven months. I started this way back in September. At the time I was awash in the euphoria of having recently returned to Taiwan. There were few moments I enjoyed more than walking along the river late into the evening. This memory still holds a special place, as I remember actively attempting to create a narrative as I walked, in the hopes that I would remember enough to eventually write it all down later on. One area in particular was set up as a few rows of benches that looked out onto the river. There were at least a dozen couples sitting there in different states of body language, conversation, and general engagement. There were the ones with bodies turned to face each other participating in active conversation. Others had bodies turned towards the river, but with heads facing each other as a dialogue waxed and waned, only to turn and face the river again. Then, there were those who sat next to each other, but said nothing; looking straight ahead at the river, the cityscape across the water, or looking, yet seeing nothing, with eyes and thoughts gazing inwards.
The ones who said nothing I found the most captivating. A couple of them were older and I found myself composing their story as I walked past: Perhaps they were so comfortable with each other, that nothing really needed to be said; their presence together was enough. Or, maybe a physical presence was all they had; that emotionally they had completely separated, and the claustrophobia of a quiet household got them out into the night air, but couldn't get them speaking. Who really knows? But that's why I found the quiet couples so intriguing. With a door so open to speculation, I found my mind racing to create my own version of their history.
Perhaps it feels that much more relevant when your life changes course; so it's important to:
Always look on the bright side...
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Where to go from here...
I love this:
For the longest time I always thought I was trying to take the path of least resistance. It was maybe the path of least confrontation, because I think I was constantly mistaking opportunity for a challenge I was reluctant to pursue. Most of the time I just waited for the next thing to land at my feet as opposed to actively seeking a path that would provide the personal fulfillment (mostly professional) that has so far felt lacking. But then I would find myself here and have fleeting moments of inspiration and clarity:
The air is warm, the sky is blue (and all the leaves are green), a vast urban landscape is laid out in a multitude of buildings, people, and experiences. It's moments like these where everything feels tangible and I want to grab hold of this moment and embrace it as a living object. Because maybe this time I won't allow myself to get too comfortable with whatever status quo I've established for myself. Maybe if I can hold this feeling and moment long enough I will try harder in life. But it's not something I can physically hold onto. I have my brief moment of clarity where I make grand declarations to myself that I know I won't follow through on. But maybe one small thing sticks, and if enough things stick over time, eventually things might change.
Life is fascinating. Going places, experiencing people, letting nature take your breath away. The best moments never feel long enough, and looking back feel even shorter. Some of the best I can remember like yesterday, and some have to be conjured from the recesses of memory by stories told by friends. Having entered an entirely new stage of life makes me want to embrace these memories that much more. To me, they are the most important currency. At this point they feel like the best kind of savings that I have, making them that much more precious to hold onto.
Life is fascinating. Going places, experiencing people, letting nature take your breath away. The best moments never feel long enough, and looking back feel even shorter. Some of the best I can remember like yesterday, and some have to be conjured from the recesses of memory by stories told by friends. Having entered an entirely new stage of life makes me want to embrace these memories that much more. To me, they are the most important currency. At this point they feel like the best kind of savings that I have, making them that much more precious to hold onto.
Monday, October 21, 2013
陽明山:我從擎天崗走到聖人橋 (part one)
Those of you that have heard a bit about my previous Taiwan trip might remember me talking about and/or posting pictures of 陽明山 (Yang Ming Mountain). It's a national park in Taiwan a little to the northeast of Taipei proper. From my apartment it's a few stops on the MRT, followed by a 35 minute or so bus ride up a winding road in a little bus that fits 20 or so people. Well, this is the way that I've always taken to get to 擎天崗 (qingtiangang), which as of yet is the only place I've gone in the national park area. There is a reason for this:
On a day when low clouds blanket the mountain in fog, which are also numerous, it is just as amazing. Everything feels a bit more magical, and clouds move in a way where temporary clearings tease the intrepid hiker with the surrounding views, before obscuring them in a shroud of grayish-white.
Every time I go to 陽明山 I tell myself that I'll do something different. There are other bus stops along the way that have different trail heads, and other bus routes entirely that go to other parts of the park. There are hot springs, hotels, restaurants, and I have no idea where any of those things are. I get ready to go, think about where I want to get off the bus this time, and then don't get off the bus until I find myself once again at 擎天崗.
This past Sunday was no different. It was a warm, sunny day near 士林站 where I was waiting for the bus. My stomach was full from a nearby restaurant, was listening to Summoning's "Old Morning's Dawn," and thinking about where to go this time around. My thoughts were primarily turned to 冷水坑 (lengshuikeng), which is just a couple stops before 擎天崗. I'd previously noticed a couple different trails that looked interesting, and anticipated that this would be the time that I'd finally do something different.
The bus was crowded and all the seats were taken, so it seemed that it would be a standing ride for me today; though a somewhat older man looked at me and friendly tapped his arm rest in a somewhat joking invitation as a place to sit. He then turned to whom I assume was his wife to repeat this gesture and probably explain how funny he was.
As we exited the city and began the curving climb up the road to 擎天崗, the sunshine quickly turned into clouds; which then transitioned into several bursts of rain. The bursts turned into a steady rain, and I began wondering if I should have pursued something closer in that would have kept me in the sunshine. My apprehensions were mostly due to the shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops that were a part of my clothing arsenal, as well as a lack of any sort of rain deterrent. I knew it wouldn't hurt to keep going and at least see if things would calm down. I also found myself not getting off the bus until reaching the final stop and was once again in familiar territory.
The rain had stopped but the temperature was a bit cooler than I had anticipated. This was coupled with a strong breeze and grey clouds that still held the threat of another downpour. I picked up a poncho from a small store and decided that I would take a trip down memory lane and do the hike from 擎天崗 to 風櫃口 that had been my last hike here the last time around. There's a particular stretch of the hike that transitions from the grass fields and areas of dense foliage into an evergreen forest that hold smells and feelings of home. This had turned into my main motivation for covering similar ground and I was happy to be on my way. Though I began to wonder if I had picked the wrong footwear for the hike...
When you catch it on a sunny day the views of the mountains are stunning, and while civilization is really never too far, I've always had a feeling of being transported into another world when I've come here. The air is so clean, and the tall grasses have a look and a smell that reminds me a little of the Oregon coast. When there's a good breeze on the mountain, which is often, the sound of the breeze making it's way through the blades of grass has always instilled a sort of inner calm within me.
Every time I go to 陽明山 I tell myself that I'll do something different. There are other bus stops along the way that have different trail heads, and other bus routes entirely that go to other parts of the park. There are hot springs, hotels, restaurants, and I have no idea where any of those things are. I get ready to go, think about where I want to get off the bus this time, and then don't get off the bus until I find myself once again at 擎天崗.
This past Sunday was no different. It was a warm, sunny day near 士林站 where I was waiting for the bus. My stomach was full from a nearby restaurant, was listening to Summoning's "Old Morning's Dawn," and thinking about where to go this time around. My thoughts were primarily turned to 冷水坑 (lengshuikeng), which is just a couple stops before 擎天崗. I'd previously noticed a couple different trails that looked interesting, and anticipated that this would be the time that I'd finally do something different.
The bus was crowded and all the seats were taken, so it seemed that it would be a standing ride for me today; though a somewhat older man looked at me and friendly tapped his arm rest in a somewhat joking invitation as a place to sit. He then turned to whom I assume was his wife to repeat this gesture and probably explain how funny he was.
As we exited the city and began the curving climb up the road to 擎天崗, the sunshine quickly turned into clouds; which then transitioned into several bursts of rain. The bursts turned into a steady rain, and I began wondering if I should have pursued something closer in that would have kept me in the sunshine. My apprehensions were mostly due to the shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops that were a part of my clothing arsenal, as well as a lack of any sort of rain deterrent. I knew it wouldn't hurt to keep going and at least see if things would calm down. I also found myself not getting off the bus until reaching the final stop and was once again in familiar territory.
The rain had stopped but the temperature was a bit cooler than I had anticipated. This was coupled with a strong breeze and grey clouds that still held the threat of another downpour. I picked up a poncho from a small store and decided that I would take a trip down memory lane and do the hike from 擎天崗 to 風櫃口 that had been my last hike here the last time around. There's a particular stretch of the hike that transitions from the grass fields and areas of dense foliage into an evergreen forest that hold smells and feelings of home. This had turned into my main motivation for covering similar ground and I was happy to be on my way. Though I began to wonder if I had picked the wrong footwear for the hike...
Sunday, October 6, 2013
我買了兩本書/Moby Dick
Between work and home I spend too much time in front of the computer. Sometimes I don't even know what it is I'm trying to find. I'm just looking for any random thing to keep me occupied, and it's one of those habits that I would like to remedy. Because of this, I have no reservations about being a smart phone hold out, as the last thing I need is another reason to stare at a screen.
As a solution, I decided to brave the rainy weather and go to a book store yesterday to find something good to read. My initial goal was tracking down A Dance with Dragons (update: found it, read it, it was awesome. Now I have to wait who knows how long for the next one), book five in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. I wanted to find it used and so my first stop was Whose Books near the 公館 MRT station. A couple different blogs recommended this store as having the best used English book section in Taipei. Turns out it wasn't big enough to fill half an aisle at Powell's Books.
I did not find my intended purchase.
My next best chance was the much larger book store across the street. As far as finding my initial book choice it was a bust, but they did have a decent selection of HarperCollins classics on the cheap. After perusing my options I decided upon Moby Dick and Fitzgerald's The Beautiful and the Damned, both of which I've never read. For some reason the clerk decided to give me a discount even though I said I wasn't a student (it's near 台灣大學, so students get a discount), and so I walked away with my two new books for $8. Sweet.
I was also hungry and really wanted a burger, so with my purchases in hand I walked off in pursuit of California Grill on 永康街 (a touristy street with abundant restaurants, tea shops, and other shopping opportunities), a little burger place that Andrea and I went to a couple times previously. I thought I knew where it was and after a futile hour or so of trying to track it down, went into a random place that had what looked like Spanish and African cuisine inspired sandwiches. I placed my order and started reading Moby Dick. By the second page I was already hooked, but a passage on page four really struck me with how little things have changed within the human condition since the book was published in 1851:
As a solution, I decided to brave the rainy weather and go to a book store yesterday to find something good to read. My initial goal was tracking down A Dance with Dragons (update: found it, read it, it was awesome. Now I have to wait who knows how long for the next one), book five in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. I wanted to find it used and so my first stop was Whose Books near the 公館 MRT station. A couple different blogs recommended this store as having the best used English book section in Taipei. Turns out it wasn't big enough to fill half an aisle at Powell's Books.
I did not find my intended purchase.
My next best chance was the much larger book store across the street. As far as finding my initial book choice it was a bust, but they did have a decent selection of HarperCollins classics on the cheap. After perusing my options I decided upon Moby Dick and Fitzgerald's The Beautiful and the Damned, both of which I've never read. For some reason the clerk decided to give me a discount even though I said I wasn't a student (it's near 台灣大學, so students get a discount), and so I walked away with my two new books for $8. Sweet.
I was also hungry and really wanted a burger, so with my purchases in hand I walked off in pursuit of California Grill on 永康街 (a touristy street with abundant restaurants, tea shops, and other shopping opportunities), a little burger place that Andrea and I went to a couple times previously. I thought I knew where it was and after a futile hour or so of trying to track it down, went into a random place that had what looked like Spanish and African cuisine inspired sandwiches. I placed my order and started reading Moby Dick. By the second page I was already hooked, but a passage on page four really struck me with how little things have changed within the human condition since the book was published in 1851:
"Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then. however the old sea-captains may order me about--however they thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way--either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content."
Damn, if that isn't powerful. I made a good choice.
Friday, September 27, 2013
生日快樂/33
I originally wrote this on my birthday. It has been changed. Immediately after finishing it I thought it was the best thing I ever wrote. The following morning told me otherwise. It had some good sentiments so I've decided to keep most of it, but decided to make some changes to make it a little more coherent. Perhaps that ruins the spirit (get it?) of "the sauce" inspired ramblings, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it as it was.
Today marks year number 33. I'm 33 years old and I have no idea what that means whatsoever. My dad was 33 when he married my mom and the result of that was Gina, me, and Raymond. My birthday also coincided with Teacher Appreciation Day in Taipei (or Taiwan, I'm not sure if it's countrywide), so I was also treated to a banquet. While this was by no means a celebration of my birthday, I still received a great happy birthday chorus from my fellow 蓬萊 staff, friends, students, and family, and it was amazing. It's hard not to feel happy that people care.
People care. It's a wonderful thing.
I am fascinated by everything about my life. Also, it's my birthday, and I've been drinking, and that makes everything even more fascinating. Every time I sit and write a blog I end up thinking and thinking and thinking. I don't know how to really express myself, or how to express this experience, or even what it was the last time around. Sometimes I wander around new streets and just stare up and try to imagine the history around them. There's a department store called Carrefour near my school and directly across the street are some of the most run down homes I've ever seen. I look at those and imagine just how much the property that those apartments sit on must be worth (I'm pretty sure it's a lot). I've walked by them so many times, and I can't help but wonder how much longer they'll be there. It's one of those interesting dichotomies where you can see the new and the old in direct confrontation, and it seems the new eventually wins out in the end.
I don't where I fit in that. Do I want to follow the societal and technological trends or be a perpetual confrontation/luddite? Am I making choices that move me forward, or am stuck moving in perpetual circles? Have I isolated myself by living abroad again? I don't know. What I know is that today I turn 33; and all the societal/internal noise feels insignificant because I can close my eyes and return to these places (or just look at pictures on the computer):
What to do when there's so many wonderful things around me, and yet this beauty is drowned out by news headlines
that are perpetually frustrating. It is while reading things like this that I feel my greatest conflict. I'm abroad; I should stop caring. Obamacare, guns, Ted Cruz, Iran, Israel, drones, terrorists, massacres, civilian casualties, Islamic extremists, the religious right, apparently now there's an atheist "church," progressive, conservative. Sensationalist stories about people, places, events and the labels we place on ideologies create an incredible din, it seriously never ends. I feel an increasing desire to distance myself from all of it because every day; every day, it's this: Who's fighting who? Is America going to bomb another country? More people were shot. The U.S. political system appears broken.
Then I see young kids getting into metal, and a teacher creating great opportunities to play and record music for his students, and I feel inspired to keep caring.
Most of all today, I think about the people that matter most to me. I wish I could embrace you all, and tell you all how much I love you. This reminds me of a story about drinking and wanting to tell everybody about my feelings. Years ago, probably around the year 2000, I spent a lot of my time with some Klamath Falls folk (you all know who you are) that had migrated to Portland. I had a habit of drinking too much and wanting to share my feelings. I also had a habit of drinking so much that I would nod off here and there. Anyways, one evening after some merriment Cory was taking Andrew and I back home in his truck. I was blabbing about this and that and then proceeded to finish with: "I just love everybody so much." And then promptly fell asleep. Good times.
These are my thoughts entering year number 33. I have felt a lot of love from amazing people; I am very lucky.
Today marks year number 33. I'm 33 years old and I have no idea what that means whatsoever. My dad was 33 when he married my mom and the result of that was Gina, me, and Raymond. My birthday also coincided with Teacher Appreciation Day in Taipei (or Taiwan, I'm not sure if it's countrywide), so I was also treated to a banquet. While this was by no means a celebration of my birthday, I still received a great happy birthday chorus from my fellow 蓬萊 staff, friends, students, and family, and it was amazing. It's hard not to feel happy that people care.
People care. It's a wonderful thing.
I am fascinated by everything about my life. Also, it's my birthday, and I've been drinking, and that makes everything even more fascinating. Every time I sit and write a blog I end up thinking and thinking and thinking. I don't know how to really express myself, or how to express this experience, or even what it was the last time around. Sometimes I wander around new streets and just stare up and try to imagine the history around them. There's a department store called Carrefour near my school and directly across the street are some of the most run down homes I've ever seen. I look at those and imagine just how much the property that those apartments sit on must be worth (I'm pretty sure it's a lot). I've walked by them so many times, and I can't help but wonder how much longer they'll be there. It's one of those interesting dichotomies where you can see the new and the old in direct confrontation, and it seems the new eventually wins out in the end.
I don't where I fit in that. Do I want to follow the societal and technological trends or be a perpetual confrontation/luddite? Am I making choices that move me forward, or am stuck moving in perpetual circles? Have I isolated myself by living abroad again? I don't know. What I know is that today I turn 33; and all the societal/internal noise feels insignificant because I can close my eyes and return to these places (or just look at pictures on the computer):
Then I see young kids getting into metal, and a teacher creating great opportunities to play and record music for his students, and I feel inspired to keep caring.
Most of all today, I think about the people that matter most to me. I wish I could embrace you all, and tell you all how much I love you. This reminds me of a story about drinking and wanting to tell everybody about my feelings. Years ago, probably around the year 2000, I spent a lot of my time with some Klamath Falls folk (you all know who you are) that had migrated to Portland. I had a habit of drinking too much and wanting to share my feelings. I also had a habit of drinking so much that I would nod off here and there. Anyways, one evening after some merriment Cory was taking Andrew and I back home in his truck. I was blabbing about this and that and then proceeded to finish with: "I just love everybody so much." And then promptly fell asleep. Good times.
These are my thoughts entering year number 33. I have felt a lot of love from amazing people; I am very lucky.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
To lift their voice/龍山寺
One of my goals since I've arrived in Taipei is to go on a walk everyday. Today's goal was to walk from my apartment to 龍山寺 without checking any maps or planning any sort of route beforehand. This is roughly the route I took, which include a stop at 青山宮, a temple that Danny Ohlsen, Andrea, and I visited during his visit, and I ended up encountering again somewhat by accident.
從我家去龍山寺 (be sure to click on including the map)
龍山寺 is one of the oldest temples in Taiwan, having originally been built in 1738. It is also one of the most touristy, and with good reason; it is amazing.
There are usually a lot of people there, but today I was surprised with something entirely unexpected. It was more crowded than usual, and a large number of people had songbooks in their hands and were singing in unison with a lone hand drum, and maybe a cymbal keeping the beat. A song would finish, and then a voice would pierce the break in the chorus and identify the new song and melody that was to begin. After the one solo line, the collective whole would begin again with an awe inspiring cohesiveness. It was so unexpected and sounded so uplifting that for a moment I felt tears well up in my eyes. I did a loop around the temple soaking it all in. As I did this I noticed something. I would walk by various people and at times observed just how off key some of them sounded. However, I'd take a couple more steps, and they would blend into the harmonious whole.
It serves as a reminder that it's so easy to point out individual faults, whether self-reflective, or pointing the finger elsewhere. Yet a community working together can quickly compensate for individual imperfection and create something meaningful.
I know this is an obvious allegory to create from this experience, but it feels relevant because I have left my community. I've put myself back into an environment where I am definitely the "other." It's easy to get used to feeling anonymous in Portland as one of many tall, gangly, bearded dudes walking and biking around. However, throw those three adjectives on a foreigner in Taipei and the pool of eligible applicants shrinks exponentially. The result? Sometimes people stare. It can feel a little awkward, especially since I understand enough Chinese that after walking by people and then hearing them say something about the 外國 or the 白人, I know that they're talking about me. That's usually as far as I get though as far as understanding.
So then what is it about? Is it because I'm a tall, white guy? Have a beard? Both? Because I'm just so good looking? (joking) Because you feel annoyed that I'm here? Because you're wondering why I'm just sitting next to the river watching the sunset by myself?
This is not a complaint at all. I had some of the same thoughts during my first transition to living in Taipei, and I don't feel surprised that they've made a second appearance. The first time they went away and I imagine they will once again. To bring up my point from earlier, is that having left Portland, I no longer blend in. At this point, I am just a solo voice with all its imperfections, and thus feel as though I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.
I did a poor job at creating a community the first time I was here, and so most events since I've arrived have been a solo exercise. I guess this brings me to my big point. I want to try harder to find good people, and build something meaningful with those around me. It also make me realize how quickly my year in Portland came and went, and how I dropped the ball on being more present before making another exit. So to friends and family I want to say that I love you all so much. Thank you for being you, and for being a part of my life. I miss you!
從我家去龍山寺 (be sure to click on including the map)
龍山寺 is one of the oldest temples in Taiwan, having originally been built in 1738. It is also one of the most touristy, and with good reason; it is amazing.
There are usually a lot of people there, but today I was surprised with something entirely unexpected. It was more crowded than usual, and a large number of people had songbooks in their hands and were singing in unison with a lone hand drum, and maybe a cymbal keeping the beat. A song would finish, and then a voice would pierce the break in the chorus and identify the new song and melody that was to begin. After the one solo line, the collective whole would begin again with an awe inspiring cohesiveness. It was so unexpected and sounded so uplifting that for a moment I felt tears well up in my eyes. I did a loop around the temple soaking it all in. As I did this I noticed something. I would walk by various people and at times observed just how off key some of them sounded. However, I'd take a couple more steps, and they would blend into the harmonious whole.
It serves as a reminder that it's so easy to point out individual faults, whether self-reflective, or pointing the finger elsewhere. Yet a community working together can quickly compensate for individual imperfection and create something meaningful.
I know this is an obvious allegory to create from this experience, but it feels relevant because I have left my community. I've put myself back into an environment where I am definitely the "other." It's easy to get used to feeling anonymous in Portland as one of many tall, gangly, bearded dudes walking and biking around. However, throw those three adjectives on a foreigner in Taipei and the pool of eligible applicants shrinks exponentially. The result? Sometimes people stare. It can feel a little awkward, especially since I understand enough Chinese that after walking by people and then hearing them say something about the 外國 or the 白人, I know that they're talking about me. That's usually as far as I get though as far as understanding.
So then what is it about? Is it because I'm a tall, white guy? Have a beard? Both? Because I'm just so good looking? (joking) Because you feel annoyed that I'm here? Because you're wondering why I'm just sitting next to the river watching the sunset by myself?
This is not a complaint at all. I had some of the same thoughts during my first transition to living in Taipei, and I don't feel surprised that they've made a second appearance. The first time they went away and I imagine they will once again. To bring up my point from earlier, is that having left Portland, I no longer blend in. At this point, I am just a solo voice with all its imperfections, and thus feel as though I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.
I did a poor job at creating a community the first time I was here, and so most events since I've arrived have been a solo exercise. I guess this brings me to my big point. I want to try harder to find good people, and build something meaningful with those around me. It also make me realize how quickly my year in Portland came and went, and how I dropped the ball on being more present before making another exit. So to friends and family I want to say that I love you all so much. Thank you for being you, and for being a part of my life. I miss you!
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