Present from the hotel

We were staying at a hotel/cabin in the mountains. I found a wrapped present by my bedside, and here it is! I guess they are afraid we'd be too bored in the dark mountain nights with no entertainment around... Pretty hilarious idea.

Seeing old familiars

En route back to San Francisco. I realized I hadn't used Microsoft Word for over a week by now. These past six days had been fun, interesting, and pretty thought-provoking, with a mix of perspectives and senses.

We first spent one day in Yangmingshan, with a nice dinner and a wonderful hike. Then Paul spent three full days attending a linguistic conference while I visited friends and ran errands in Hsinchu. This part of my duty was not clearly prescribed (the primary purpose of my accompanying Paul was to reward him for having triumphed months of single-parenthood). I took care of our TW taxes with the help of a friend, mother of one of Noah's best friends in school last year. I then requested to walk to the market with Jinlaoshi, a wonderful friend/neighbor who's been teaching nuclear physics at Tsinghua for close to 30 years. We had fun checking out vegetables and fruits. I bought some lichee, mangos, a guava, and crunchy little peaches. On Saturday I went shopping and found the Taiwanese significantly more fashion-oriented than, for example, Berkeley folks! Finally, on the last day in Taiwan Paul and I had a wonderful day browsing and walking around Taipei and saw some good friends.

Some pics from our hotel room view of the city, the hikes up to Yangminshan, the mountain north of Taipei. The rocks by the waterfall and streams are red because of sulfur. Very lush and beautiful, a huge contrast from the crowded, polluted city just 30 minutes down the mountain. To be continued...

"Female assist, no alarm"

At the security check point at SFO, I was told to step aside when the TSA called out "Female assist, no alarm!" You feel such a sense of vulnerability as you stand waiting in the enclosed glass "cage", though you have done nothing wrong. The "female assist" came shortly, patting through my legs. Out of curiosity, I asked her why I was picked out given that no alarm had sounded, and I learned that it was my long linen skirt. Interesting. We wonder if that's a more objective way to get to search the Muslim women, and in the process, all the Catholic nuns and Orthodox Jews and all women with long skirts.

Anyway, off we flew 13 hours, and landed safetly in Taoyuan. The humid air, bus smell, lush green fields, dilapidated looking buildings, all the familiar senses, this time, a new feeling of a "second home" to both of us.

My last evening at IBS dorm

Tonight is my last night sleeping in my dorm room. We had a nice house farewell party with all 8 of us on Cheeseboard pizza, salads, and amazing Ici ice cream on homemade cone. Everything was as Berkeley as it gets! I got Y. to take a picture of my serving ice cream to B, the Sri Lankan monk, S, the Shin priest from Kyoto, and R. (whose story I shall share on a personal occasion). We talked about how this year's dorm felt so much like a family, where everyone is comfortable and relaxed to return, where we could share a drink at the end of the day, knit together, talk about happy and sad stories, and just be each other's support even though we are so utterly different in many many ways--with respect to age, jobs, background, life's outlook, sexual orientation, etc. I will miss this dorm, its people, and Berkeley, as I've learned so much more than expected here. What I had in mind to acquire turned out completely different than what I eventually gained. Keeping an open mind, pleasant surprises abound.

Sentiments aside.... My three boys--here I am! Mommy is back and do not plan to leave ever again!

HMD

I woke up at 5:30 am, did my sitting, and though my heart was warm, I was a little sad that I can't be with my kids on this Mother's Day. And as I turned on the computer, I got this in the email.

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers on earth.

"Please call me by my true names"

Have been thinking intensely on the ideas of no self, interbeing, karma, the interconnectedness of everyone and everything. The cyclone, the war, the rice and grain shortage and ensuing hunger, disasters seemingly far away, and joy that's right around the corner. I couldn't reconcile why we in the rich countries consume, waste, and enjoy life, while the poorest of the poor have even the little that they have, rice, bread, a hut for shelter, taken away from them.

Until I read Thich Nhat Hanh's poem:

PLEASE CALL ME BY MY TRUE NAMES

Don't say that I will depart tomorrow--
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a spring branch
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar inthe heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that is alive.

I am a mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am a bird that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am a frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his "debt of blood"to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wak up
and the door of my heart could be left open,
the door of compassion.

A special class

Today was a special day--it begins to mark a closure to my "Berkeley experience". I took my mentor R (whom I had written about last summer) and her colleague out to dim sum in the hopping Chinatown of Oakland. We had a really nice time. I then met with my adviser to whom I reported on my MPH year. Then, as it always happens around 5pm on Tuesdays, I am torn between going to Yoga Room and staying in the room and working. I hate to be in class when Paul has the time and energy to chat over the phone, so I called him and asked him to decide for me. He said that he's got a lot of grading to catch up on, and that I should go to yoga. So off I went, to my very favorite studio just blocks away. The weather was perfect, the walk was pleasant, I really felt so grateful for this opportunity.

My teacher M. is a very shy and reserved person. Honestly I am a little intimidated by her cold and stern demeanor, but I have loved her teaching. She is strictly an Iyengar teacher, and focuses almost exclusively on physical form and alignment. He has a wealth of knowledge and keen sensitivity to the body and all of its parts. She often makes adjustments verbally, telling you how to adjust yourself, rather than repositioning you herself (which she also does when words fail to be effective). She rarely engages in any small talk, so even though I have been going to her class all of last year, I never got to know her personally. The one thing she knows about me is that I have a sister who looks and talks quite like me, and at any given time it could be Sylvia, or Wenshing, or both!!

At the beginning of today's class, I told her quietly that this is going to be my last class with her as I am moving back east to be with my family. To my surprise, throughout the class, she paid special attention to me, giving me guidance on various asanas. At one point she even told me to hold the pose while everyone has finished: "Since Sylvia is leaving, she needs to get this right." Then she came and adjusted me. I could really feel the difference after her little instruction on hip alignment. It reminds me that the journey of yoga practice is ongoing and that even a basic triangle pose has so much depth hand room for growth.

After savasana, at the very end, she publicly wished me well and a safe journey home. Then the classmates, some of whom had seemed aloof to me, all said goodbye to me individually. It brought an unexpected, wonderful closure for me. It's a class I will remember. I almost wish the muscle aches will linger a little longer so I can savor the wonderful class time a little more.

I will have my official last class with Claire, my other (Ashtanga) teacher, tomorrow evening. So for now my Berkeley yoga journey is not over yet.

Keeping the mind on a diet

is not a bad thing...