on friendship...aka retroactive destiny

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.

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...

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:

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. 

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...

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.

新開始

I wrote this in a notepad at about 5am on the bus ride from 桃園國際機場 to 台北車站. I am throwing it on here without any changes.

8/19
Just got on the bus to head to Main Station. There was so much build up both internally and externally to being here that it was hard to know what I would actually feel to be back. I feel great! I usually don't do well with build up. I feel it usually leads to unrealistic expectations and I've always preferred to just experience things as I go.

In regards to experiences, I feel so lucky to have a second opportunity to teach in Taiwan. The first time around was not without its hiccups and missed opportunities. I was so sure the first time around that I would be in Taiwan a second year that I frequently allowed myself to put things off or venture into uncharted (for me) territories on my own.

I'm going to be here for 5 months on my own, so it is up to me to take chances on new experiences and be more willing to make mistakes with my Chinese and be happy with my efforts.

The first time in Taiwan I felt unsure of what I wanted the experience to be, I just knew I wanted to have it. Having a year to reflect on my experience before coming back has given me a sense of appreciation, motivation, and excitement that may not have been there otherwise.

To Andrea I can only give my sincerest thanks for supporting me in the decision to come back. Our time apart is not going to be easy, but I am so grateful to have a wife that encourages me to follow my dreams, and I just love you so much!!

And with that, the blog is resurrected. I still haven't figured out exactly how I want to use it, or what I want it to be, but I imagine I will figure it out as a go along. Disclaimer: I will sometimes use bad language. To quote one of my favorite authors: so it goes.

Cheers.

A reflection on learning to teach...

I was just looking through some pictures from a few years back and came across two pictures that I hadn't looked at since I was a student teacher. The biggest reason for this is the fact that I'm no longer a student teacher and haven't had to critically analyze anyone's work in the time I've spent as a substitute teacher. Looking at this also made me realize that maybe I wasn't such a bad student teacher after all. The following two pictures are from the poetry unit I did with my sixth grade students. I'm actually blown away by how well these students captured the poems I assigned to them.

"A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes:
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
by Maya Angelou

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

I think my teaching classes also made me paranoid about copyright and fair use laws, but hopefully no one will take offense to my using such amazing poems to showcase just how awesome students can be. As much as I am loving being able to teach abroad, I do have a certain amount of frustration that I am not able to teach in the States and further pursue exploring literature with a class of my own...

For those unaware, a brief history on how I discovered an interest in teaching abroad:

In the spring of 2003, Andrea and I went on the first of our trips to Central America. While we were there we happened to meet an Australian girl named Melanie (I might be wrong on that, but for this story it's going to be her name). She was traveling solo overall, though at the time she happened to be in the company of a guy from Portland named Victor who Andrea happened to meet shortly before we went on our trip (a different story I suppose, though not worth telling, as he was kind of a douche). She proved to be far superior company, and it was during our conversations with her that I found out that she was traveling on money she had earned after spending a year teaching in South Korea.

As soon as she mentioned having taught in Asia, the proverbial light bulb went off above my head. I knew at that moment I would at some point in my life do something similar. Melanie related some of her experiences teaching and her general impressions of Korean culture, and I was sold, I was going to teach in South Korea. While Melanie was the first person I met who had taught abroad, meeting her seemed to release the flood gate, and over the last eight years I have consistently run into people who have done similar teaching excursions. Each time it reaffirmed my interest in doing something similar, and it proved to be motivating enough to get me back into school to finish my bachelor’s degree (which was required in South Korea) so that I would be on my way to a jet set teaching lifestyle.

While I had originally intended on teaching abroad shortly after finishing college (2005), that is not how things ended up working out. However, considering that time involved a stint living in Austin, a second trip to Central America, going back to school to take a stab at a more traditional teaching career, Andrea becoming an amazing practitioner of TCM, and watching the circular nature of life as people left Portland, only to return, and some to leave again, I would have to say my previous intentions were ill-timed. In addition, South Korea proved to be incompatible with our life’s trajectory, and was replaced by Taiwan as the eventual destination. I usually feel dissuaded from touching on abstract notions of fate, but my own experiences have led me to believe that things usually work at as they are meant to, and so it seems that 2011 was destined to be the year that my (and Andrea’s) journey abroad was to begin…