The Last Lecture on Life

"Few things are better than fulfilling a childhood dream. It satisfies expectations, paints reality on the canvas of imagination and suggests the limits of human potential.” So writes Bill Maxwell, a regular contributor to St. Pete Times' Opinion Section under the heading “When wit was in style” on Feb 28, 2007.

It so happened that I had just watched a video on the same topic, but this time given by an apparently dying man, Randy Pausch.

You see, Randy is a professor of computer science at Carnegie Mellon University (CMU) who has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. His doctor has told him (on Aug 15, 2007) that he has likely 3-6 months to live.

So he was reprising his last lecture already given at CMU last September at the Oprah Winfrey Show as captured in the video, just over 10 minutes long. And our friend who alerted us to the video has this to say:

“I found this message particularly inspiring. This is lecture on life from a professor with truly remarkable insight on life, goals, etc. It's about 10 minutes long and one of the best uses of that time that anyone will find.”

What I saw on the video is every bit an academic, but seemingly in the prime of health, projecting confidence and enthusiasm. None of the moroseness or stoicism that we tend to associate with the terminally ill. In fact, he did push-ups on the floor mixed up with hand clapping just to prove his point that right then he might be healthier than a majority of the audience.

And his talk, on how he realized his childhood dreams, conjured up the same vivacious personality, so full of life and wit. Interspersed with slides, he showed the audience that since young he always has a smiling disposition, great parents who enjoy life to the fullest (one of the slides shows his Mon in a knock-knock car and another, his Dad riding the roller coaster on his 80th birthday and winning a huge stuff toy, a prowess he shares with his son as seen from the image above taken from here).

One of his childhood dreams was to play in the National Football League, but he got more out of not being able to play in the NFL than he would have if he had played. But he did realize one of his other dreams of becoming a Disneyland Imagineer, putting his knowledge in the fascinating field of virtual reality to good use such as the Aladdin project.

Some of his words of gem include:

a) Experience is what you get when you don't get what you wanted.

b) The karma will take care of itself. And the dreams will come to you.

c) Apologize properly, by saying all of the three-parter: I'm sorry. It's my fault. How do I make it right? [So often we miss out the last part, or even the second part, out of pride, thereby aggravating an already deteriorated situation.]

d) Show gratitude.

e) Don't complain. Just work harder.

Wishing to learn more about this remarkable person, I googled him and landed on his webpage at CMU where I first read the transcript of his full last lecture delivered at CMU on Sep 18, 2007. Then I watched a video of his entire talk, the whole 76 minutes and 26 seconds of it, without break. I would have to say that was even more inspiring, more moving, exactly as what the webpage says:

"With equal parts humor and heart, Carnegie Mellon Professor Randy Pausch recently delivered a one-of-a-kind university lecture that moved an overflow crowd at Carnegie Mellon - and is now moving audiences around the globe.”

Here he expanded (or rather the first 11-minute video condensed his original lecture) many of the episodes he barely touched on in the first video because of time limitations. I had a hilarious time and more important, had learned some valuable lessons in life.

I recommend everyone to watch the full length feature. I can assure you that it would be the best present you have ever given yourself. It's that good. The hits on the You Tube video is a staggering more than 400,000.

Now blogging today has its own special significance. Because I have to wait for another four years to blog on the same day. It's of course Feb 29, the leap day that occurs every four years. And this morning I read an email on a discussion forum about this guy retiring today, leaping out of his work on a leap day (see the pun?) because he would have to wait for another four years to do it on the same day. For the record, I retired on Feb 1, in the previous leap year because the thought never crossed my mind.

As a note, Randy made it through Feb 15, exactly 6 months after the day his doctor broke the news of his likely shortened life to him. Let's all wish him success in getting through this ordeal.

From Overheating to Maintaining Road-worthiness

This is the concluding part of the “overheating” episode that started here. As the episode developed, I returned to the service center two days later, after being assured that the part had arrived. The driving with a leaked coolant compartment during the intervening days went without any hitch, under my watchful eyes.

After dutifully depositing my minivan at the Toyota service center by Fletcher around 7am , I was driven to my work place downtown on the shuttle service, which happened to be a newer version of Toyota Sienna. The driver is a lady who has just moved from Missouri a year ago. With me was another elderly lady customer, seated in front, who works at the downtown Federal building.

Mindful of the morning rush, the lady driver, Lisa, decided to take the local route via Florida and Tampa. Along the way, she engaged us in idle talks, sort of breaking the ice thing. Before long we reached our destinations, the elderly lady's before me. Before parting, Lisa took down my work address to pick me up after work around 5.00pm.

Right on the dot, she called my cell at 5.00pm, having parked behind my office where she let me off in the morning. She was to pick up two more customers, but both the latter two were much closer to the service center. So for a majority of the journey she had nobody else to interact except me.

On my question regarding the largest difference between where she was and where she is now, she said without hesitation: people. We at Tampa are more friendly. Being a divorcee in her mid forties, perhaps she has had a less than memorable sojourn in the Show Me state. In return, I admitted that I have never been to Missouri, but its Gateway Arch at St. Louis, touted to be the tallest national monument in the United States at 630 feet, certainly precedes its name.

This image of the famous Gateway Arch at St. Louis, taken from here, shows the majestic rise of this engineering wonder reaching for the sky reminiscent of the Stargate movie. Our next tourist destination perhaps, I dream on.

Then the conversation turned to Tampa attractions, one of which is the recently concluded Gasparilla parade, a re-enactment of the the taking of the City of Tampa by the marauding pirates who sailed upstream into Hillsborough Bay in an armada. She had a blast, being invited to be on one of the ships taking part in the pirate invasion, while our last two trips there were on solid ground along Bayshore Boulevard.

Because of the evening rush traffic (she chose to drive on the Interstate this time, though she did defer to me on the best route and I might have nudged her toward the Interstate) and the two detours, we were at the service center way past 6pm.

Other than having to take one hour off from my work schedule for the day (here PTO, for Personal Time Off that I just learned not too long ago, replacing vacation/sick leaves, can be taken in hour increments, which is flexible enough for unavoidable errands to be run on weekdays. The flip side here is that there is no distinction between vacation and sick leaves, both are lumped together as part of employees' entitlements. Well, you take what you are dealt with and work with it. Isn't that what life is all about, or making a life is all about? But I digress), my wallet had also gone thinner, figuratively as it actually stayed the same because the repair bill was transacted via the ubiquitous plastic card. Recall the famous refrain, Don't leave home without it?

But in return, I have peace of mind, knowing that the car has just been given a new lease of life. As usual, the repair has gone beyond the original problem of overheating that precipitated the visit in the first place. Always trust the mechanic to unearth other chronic mechanical problems when given the chance, ostensibly for the road-worthiness of one's car.

In my case, there were the battery failing the load test (no wonder the digital display of the car's Radio/Compact CD was giving jumbled words , like those neon light advertisements with missing letters or missing parts of letters), which means a brand new one; cracked hose tubing, that may just open up in the most inopportune moment, the driver marooned in the middle of nowhere; and something to do with the electronic ignition, misfiring the ignition sequence in the cylinders perhaps, which will surely show up in the gas (short for gasoline) consumption.

And there were several other “ailments” that had shown up in the diagnostics as well. But mercifully, those can await my next scheduled maintenance service that is due in another month's time or so, Deborah (the lady at the service center counter) assured me, displaying empathy with the potentially drained state of my financial wherewithal.

No wonder some customers have likened the visit to a car clinic as would to a dental clinic: you will never know what awaits you. OK, perhaps that is my own analogy. But you get the point.

Chai Found Revisited

We learned of this year's Chai Found Music Workshop at USF from a local monthly magazine catering to the local Asian community, The Asia Trend Magazine. Since we were nicely serenaded by the same group a year ago (having made the trip from South Tampa then), we filled the event on our working calendar and waited for the day to arrive. And it did, on Tuesday. This time it was a short drive from our home just across USF, and the party, augmented by one, CE (a pleasant surprise indeed).

Before the evening, I got caught in a traffic snarl, the gridlock along the Interstate precipitated by the evening downpour. I was debating whether to take the local road but decided to stick to my usual route. But I would not be so sure the next time around when it pours.

Anyway, I still had time for dinner, a home-cooked one, and arrived at the venue, Music Recital Hall in USF, with some minutes to spare. I actually spent about 15 minutes before that searching for the location on the Internet because the USF campus map that I have does not indicate the venue; perhaps the map only shows buildings and this Music Recital Hall is a facility in one of the buildings.

I remember last year it was held at the Fine Arts Building but could not recall whether the theater that we were in was called the Music Recital Hall. Googling it only yielded the USF address along Fowler. I told wify that we just had to try our luck at the same place and hope for the best. Then drilling deeper while Internet sleuthing, I found a reference to a room, FAH101, FAH being the acronym for Fines Arts. So, it is the same place as last year. Wonder why the organizer did not bother to put FAH101 in parentheses after the venue, which would have saved me some anxious moments.

I brought my pocket-sized camera along, but heeded the answer from the lady in the ticket booth when I sought confirmation that there was to be no photography . It was a nearly packed house, and the same troupe as last year marched on to the stage, all six of them, resplendent in traditional Chinese garb. Each played on one different traditional Chinese instrument: erhu (spike fiddle), dizi (bamboo flutes), pipa (Chinese lute), yangqin (hammered dulcimer), guzheng (zither), except for one lady who played two: daruan (bass banjo) and liugin (piccolo lute).

The group consists of two gentlemen and four ladies, shown here in a picture scanned from the program book. The man on the right is Mr. Huang Chen-Ming, the director who plays the erhu with gay abandon. And Mr. Wu Chung-Hsien, the flute player, comes equipped with a bagful of flutes by his side on stage. The lady sitting on the left is Ms. Liang Yen-Ping on double duty with the Daruan (shown here) and liuqin. The lady next to her is Ms. Lin Hui-Kuan, who plays the pipa. The two ladies standing from left are Ms. Lin I-Hsien, holding the guzheng, easily the largest piece of the instrument, and Ms. Lee Shu-Fen, her hands resting on the yangqin.

Themed A Merger of Tradition and Modernism, two of the ten performances also featured a mix with western instruments, a bass clarinet paired with liuqin, and another featuring a family of percussion instruments: drums, cymbal, and vibraphone (I actually looked this up after the fact) with pipa. These two “merged” compositions are the works of USF Music faculties. I can only describe them to be bold attempts that sounded contrived, lacking harmony, to my untrained ears.

If you click on the image, you would be able to see the two
merged" compositions, being the last two before the intermission. I think it's easy to tell which one refers to the earthquake-inspired composition as described next.

Perhaps it is understandable, I mean the apparent lack of harmony, for the second composition, which according to the preamble given by the faculty member concerned, was to capture the chaotic moment, shattered peace, and the subsequent reconstruction effort in the aftermath of the 1999 earthquake in Taiwan. The pipa rendition certainly played to the gallery, emitting discordant notes of urgency and pending disaster, reminiscent of similar moments of music accompaniment in Chinese movies portending and symbolizing looming danger. But the percussionist deserves credit too for his spontaneous display of juggling different sticks and striking different surfaces seemingly at random to the extent that papers (his music score notes actually) were sent airborne. I'm sure some in the audience must have found it hard to suppress a chuckle or two in what was supposed to be a serious music appreciation session.

The remaining eight performances were by the troupe themselves, comprising Taiwanese folk songs and sizhu (literally silk and bamboo) music. I have to admit that they are all beyond my repertoire of Chinese music, which is admittedly a rather narrow one. Somehow it's that much harder to be enthused by music that one is unfamiliar with. Put in others words, one needs to grow into a song by listening to it a couple of times. Then immersion will truly be the case.

The highlight of the event, to me, was the encore performance, which came after the audience were up on their feet accompanied by thunderous applause. Why? Because I know the song. It's an oldie that I have heard numerous times growing up. My English translation of the name of the Chinese song is The Night Brings the Fragrance, but it is really a name of a flower that emits scent at night.

That was our second attendance at the Chai Found Music Workshop, which was every bit as enjoyable as the first one, our non-familiarity with the music of the night notwithstanding. And we await the opportunity for a three-peat come next year.
Since I was mindful of the dispensation against photography, I did the next best thing: getting one from the website of Chai Found Music Workshop, surely of much better quality than my amaterish work would have been should it be the case.

It all started with over-heating ...

Normally I don't pay attention to the temperature gage in the car while driving. And that habit has not caused any undue dent in my wallet due to an overheated engine. Then last Monday when coming home from work, my eyes sort of just glanced at the dashboard to make sure that I wasn't moving too fast along Fowler, and my peripheral vision caught the upward pointing temperature indicator, seemingly inching toward the big red “H” (for hot). Its normal position is a horizontal one between C (for cold) and H, at 3 o'clock.

I was only another 2 miles or so from home. But after debating for a while at a red light, prudence got the better of me and I drove into the parking lot of CVS next to the traffic junction. After calling in to AAA for a towing service to home (it was past 7pm and too late to be towed to a Toyota Service Center which I intended to do the next morning), I released the latch at the bonnet to lift up the top to help cool down the engine. The cap and the rubber tubing felt hot, but no sound of sizzling steam. I had an urge to open up the cap but heeded the warning thereon not to open it when the engine is hot.

But that did not stop my diagnostic mission, armed with more than 30 years of driving experience that included a few run-ins with radiator and fan belt problems. I did not detect any leakage from the radiator, but noticed that the fans did not turn when I started the engine (I kind of recall that the fans are activated on a time delay switch or a thermostat control).

The fact that no leakage was detected led to my conclusion that the radiator was probably still full, and the overly high temperature could be due to some kind of electrical fault that stalled the fans. I rationalized further that if the engine had cooled down somewhat, then I should have a legitimate shot at a two-minute dash (well-timed that the 5 traffic lights along the way are all green, with a stroke of luck) for home.

By then more than half an hour has passed and the tow truck had yet to show up (the AAA lady promised help within an hour but she was silent on what recourse I could have should the tow truck fail to materialize. Incidentally, she told me that as part of my AAA basic membership, I'm entitled to a free 5-mile towing assistance to which I answered confidently, no problem, since I know the area territory well and am pretty sure that it is definitely within the distance.)

Being sure that my logical deduction was foolproof, I put my plan to the test, but not before I touched the rubber tubing again and felt that indeed it had cooled down somewhat. I figured that I might save a few seconds of cooling by switching off the engine at the traffic lights, a rather dumb move on hindsight. I had one eye on the road, and the other on the ever-inching up temperature indicator on the dashboard.

And I did switch off the engine at the last traffic light, knowing that the left turn signal there would take a while to turn green from my experience. And I nearly panicked when the engine just gave a soft thud when I turned on the ignition. Another turn, another soft thud. What the ... Did the car just give up on me because I decided to push it a bit? Then I realized that the car is an automatic automobile, meaning that the engine will only start when the stick is in the park position, a safety feature that may bring chagrin to one used to driving the “stick shift”. Just an indication of how simple maneuvers can elude us in a moment of agitation.

After turning into the parking lot in front of my apartment, and noticing that the temperature indicator was at the two o'clock position, I called AAA to cancel my service request, saving the free towing service for another day.

Having learned my judgment on the previous night to be well-founded, I drove again next morning to the nearby Toyota Service Center, another two-minute's drive. This was my first trip to the Toyota of Tampa dealer on Fletcher since the previous service of my Siena has always been handled by Stadium Toyota where I bought the minivan from on Dale Mabry. But that is a good 12 miles away and what with the morning rush hour, it would certainly be stretching a bit if I were to destine for it.

The lady who greeted me at the counter, Deborah (it says on the counter), was very courteous and helpful, and offered several other alternatives of the overheating problem that I had not thought before: faulty water pump, leaking coolant storage. Then she gave me an upfront estimate of $89, should those be the problems. Throw in a 10% discount for AAA membership (another fringe benefit in addition to free roadside assistance). I like this practice of giving the customers a kind of ceiling repair bill, helping to overcome the anxiety of chalking a huge cost.

I waited for the next half hour at the waiting lounge while the mechanics went over my car, possibly with a fine toothed comb.

The sofa seats were comfortable, not too crowded, arranged to face a large screen thin TV that displayed very clear image (HDTV?). It was on Fox News Channel and the hosts were talking about the Super Tuesday of the twin-track race for the presidential nominees from the Republican and Democrats parties. The sound volume was set at an unobtrusive level, just loud enough to be heard from the furthest seats away.

I had actually started reading a book that I had brought along, a habit cultivated in anticipation of the long wait, having undergone numerous such occasions including wify's shopping stints (note that I did not say sprees, meaning such outings are well-controlled and not impulsively long-drawn affairs) as dutiful husbands do. The book was The Power of Kindness by Piero Ferrucci (Penguin Group, 2007). But it lasted till the Preface by His Holiness the Dalai Lama only before I was drawn to the intrigue of the election heat unfolding on the TV. The segment was called You Decide 2008 with random interviews with various people including those on the street. Occasionally, there were news flashes on the results of various national polls, each attempting to dissect the conventional wisdoms of the day in an effort to distill the latest on who the front-runners and the laggards are.

I don't normally follow these political developments consciously, save when I happen to be in the right place at the right time, and in the right mood. I guess that Tuesday morning everything just kind of conspired to making me watch the TV broadcast. I recall watching on C-Span, another random event when I was channel-surfing, last Sunday that Maria Shriver, Caroline Kennedy, Oprah Winfrey were there on stage at the UCLA campus, toasting Michelle Obama. Then Maria had just waltzed up to the stage, her natural face literally lit up when talking about women exercising independent choice, an apparent departure from her Republican husband, Arnold, the action hero-turned Governor of California who has endorsed John McCain, the Republican presidential candidate, just days before.

Then on the same day, the St. Pete Times published a letter endorsing Obama by the US Nobel Laureate in Literature, Toni Morrison. In her letter to the Illinois Senator, she writes:

"In thinking carefully about the strengths of the candidates, I stunned myself when I came to the following conclusion: that in addition to keen intelligence, integrity and a rare authenticity, you exhibit something that has nothing to do with age, experience, race or gender and something I don't see in other candidates. That something is a creative imagination which coupled with brilliance equals wisdom.”

Now that's wisdom perhaps in the conventional sense that is often found wanting in politicians, but is an endearing, and often defining, quality in a statesman. Often a statesman seen as so during the runup to the political office can quickly transform into a politician where incumbency demands expediency, often politically motivated, and one that trumps everything else, including those that wisdom would dictate. Power really corrupts, and the absolutes ones, absolutely. I just hope her glowing accolades are not misplaced. And that's as much of my two cents worth of political astuteness that I would like to dispense.

Another newsbit was that there are six millions eligible voters from overseas. That reminded me of my own status in the coming general election in Malaysia this year. That I need to find out about absentee voting.

Anyway, back to the Toyota Service Center. It also provides free shuttle service to downtown in addition to complimentary coffee. I wonder whether these are also the general fare in Malaysia, which I did not avail of when I was there.

Then Deborah came back with some good news. Apparently there was a leak from the coolant piping near the chassis that is part of warranty, which means I do not have to pay for the part. But the part would only arrive after tomorrow. But she assured me that the technician had topped up the coolant container and that it being a slow leak, it would tide me over for at least a couple of days' of driving.

Thus assured, I left the Toyota Service Center, with a promise to return two days' later for the replacement. And that should be good for another blog.

There are Anniversaries, then there are Anniversaries

Last month has two days of special significance in my most recent move to US, to work. The previous trips, while pleasant, were for academic pursuits and work-related business. First is January 24, the 4th anniversary of our touchdown on US soils, at O'Hara Airport, Chicago, to be exact. Four of us (together with wify, WT and CE) were on an UA flight from Singapore, destined for Tampa.

We still remember we were all fatigued and excited at the same time, fatigued because of the long flight, an almost 24-hr flight (air time only) starting from Kuala Lumpur the day before, and excited at the prospect of fitting in with a new work/living/studying environment, for me/wify/children in that order. We were received by my colleague at the Tampa International Airport, and then driven to the rented apartment that we would put up for the next two weeks.

The next few days were hectic, adjusting to the new work environment, registering the children at the nearest high school (we had actually selected the school for them through Internet while still in Malaysia, complete with its enrollment, student mix, academic performance, and school rating, e.g., blue ribbon panel), opening bank accounts, shopping for a car (we had decided to settle on Toyota since we have had favorable experience with the make back home), and perhaps the most exhaustive of all, hunting for a new apartment (the first two weeks' rental was on my employer). Fortunately, all started well and ended well, and soon everyone settled in to the new routine, thanks largely to the steady hands of wify whose steadfast stewardship and steering took a lot out of the pressure of relocation.

I started work on January 27, 2004, another fourth anniversary that has just passed. I was taken to my room, and introduced to my colleagues. The first few days was spent on getting up to speed with the technical side of my job: the available numerical modeling facility and capability and background information gleaned from previous work reports. Alongside those were the employment related details such as signing up for the various health and retirement benefits offered by my employer.

My humble beginning, my mouth-to-mouth smile, though partly for the benefit of posing for the camera, says it all. I still have the same room today with a great view to the outside world, except the wall is now adorned with pictures and my degrees, a popular method of displaying one's credentials. And the table may be less cluttered, primarily because I'm making better use of the room's space, like under the table for one, for completed projects. Oh yes, I have a new computer last year with improved number crunching capability, complete with a flat screen monitor to boot.

Those periods of initial adjustment may seem like a distant memory now, but on reflection, my family and I do deserve a pat on our backs for making the transition so uneventful as if we had never left home, except for one exception, a huge one: separation from family back home. In this regard, I seem to have emerged the least perturbed, understandably so because both my parents have passed away and I am the youngest in the family, save for a younger sister who already has her own family. Therefore while I still have sibling ties till today, we have grown accustomed to living apart except for some occasional phone calls for updates and the annual Chinese New Year reunion.

In times, the children also made their own friends in schools, the pressure of school works perhaps obviating the luxury of reminiscing. That leaves wify. After all what is left to do after all the household chores are done other than solitude. Mind you on weekdays we left for work/school at 7.00am and the children reached home after 3pm and me, usually 6pm. And in solitude, the mind becomes a fertile ground for emotional attachment, longing for companionship, for the touch of loved ones.

Being the eldest and with both parents still around then, wify has a much stronger tie to loved ones back home, and she has found the adjustment to be the toughest, easing off only on the past year or so. They say time heals. While there may be some truth to that in wify's case, I think a more plausible explanation is her taking to Buddhism, a more complete embrace than ever before. She has taken the Buddha's teachings to heart, realizing more acutely the meaning of impermanence, of non-attachment, while preserving the values that she has long cherished: filial piety, sibling affection, and compassion.

In the past four years, we have made new friends, reached new milestones, and delved deeper into the Buddhist worldview. We still have the same car since day 1, no obvious sign requiring major overhaul after clocking more than 40,000 miles, and we have moved only once. That also because we moved into our newly bought house, our very first non-movable asset acquisition.

The children are now in the next phase of their lives: college. And WT is now staying at home away from home, in a university dorm at UF. CE still lives with us, by design. You know how parents would like to keep their children close by as long as circumstances permit. The location of our home, just across from her college, is also by design. Some things in life just have to be planned, and then executed the best way we can.

WJ in Malaysia and CY in Oregon have been on their own for some time now, and coping well. And in times to come, it would be WT's and CE's turns. We have full confidence that they would handle the transition as ably as they can when the time comes, just like their elder siblings, and their parents before them.

A Crimson River Flowing Full

It's not often that I have to depend on wify's works to blog, not to say that I don't enjoy doing that, since she already has her own virtual space. But her work here, specifically her Chinese calligraphy, bears special significance to me and my late father-in-law.

Let me start from the beginning, if I may. Wify visited her friend, Linda, at her home not too long ago. There she learned that Linda's father is an accomplished Chinese artist and calligrapher. One of Linda's collections is a calligraphy book on the famous poem by Ye Fei, a general who lived during the Sung Dynasty and is well-known for his unstinting loyalty to the then Emperor, loosely translated as The Crimson River Flowing Full, in six traditional Chinese fonts, or calligraphy styles to be precise.

Linda was kind enough to lend her the calligraphy book, and wify wrote up the entire poem by mimicking the brush strokes of a particular style, the Li Shu (Clerical Style) with its distinctive bird tail ending for horizontal strokes.

Now before I present you with her calligraphy, perhaps I should touch a bit on my and my late father-in-law's connection with this historical Chinese icon and his poem.

As a student in a Chinese primary school back home, I had studied the courageous feats of Ye Fei in the history book. I remember that when young, Ye Fei's mother had the four Chinese characters that forms an idiom, meaning displaying unwavering patriotism to sacrifice for the country, inscribed on his back. And my parents had the good sense to use one of the four characters, patriotism/loyalty, in my given name. And that is my modest claim to the patriotic hero, Ye Fei, no matter how tenuous it may seem.

My late father-in-law's connection is more personl. He loved the poem very much. And that was the song that accompanied his funeral procession on the last leg of his journey on this earth.

In a nutshell, the poem articulates Ye Fei's patriotism in safeguarding the land of the country from external threats, vowing to defeat them in the most decisive way, and his admonishment to others not to waste their prime years and regret in futility in their old age.

Here then is The Crimson River Flowing Full, in Lishu, by wify (the verses are to be read from top to bottom from right to left in descending order of the 4-character-high panels):

Fixing Stomach Discomfort and Break in Diet

This has to be the longest hiatus in my blogging yet, the last post being almost two weeks ago. I was not exactly under the weather during the intervening period, but did have several bouts of stomach discomfort to contend with.

I have since resorted to drinking freshly squeezed lemon juice before I go to bed. That being alkaline, it tends to counteract the acidic secretion in the stomach, at least that's what I thought to be the source of the problem. The result has been quite telling, saving me some sleepless nights, but it seems to work only when ingested, the s0-called curing the symptom but the cause remaining at large.

I have been reading several books intermittently, one of which is a Chinese Buddhist book entitled The Path of Prajna (wisdom) in Life (1996). The author, Joan Wai, is a lay Buddhist from HongKong but now based in NY. One of the chapters in the book describes her personal experience in following a 12-day regimen of dieting that involves graduating from a combination of fresh juices and liquid food to soups and finally to plain water. The direct translation from Chinese is Break in Diet.

Unlike hunger and other forms of dieting, which cater to the external environment, the former being imposed while the latter aimed to meet the external criterion of aesthetics, the Break in Diet is inward-directed, seeking to cleanse both the body and the mind. Therefore, an important element is maintaining mental clarity/purity by shunning all forms of mass media during the period, the purpose being to obviate wide mood swings engendered by the external environment.

The body cleansing part goes beyond bowel motion that gets rid of accumulated “garbage” in our digestive system that has a capacity of about 25 pounds (isn't that amzaing?), and includes dry scrubbing of skin. Since skin is our largest organ, it makes sense that a vital conduit for cleansing is through skin pores. So dry scrubbing the skin helps to open up the skin pores to release the toxins from our body.

Equally important is the easing back to a normal diet after the Break in Diet, gradual being the operative word. The author found that after the regimen, some of the chronic body pains that she has been experiencing has disappeared. Her resistance against fatigue has also improved, along with gain in mental alertness.

I now recall that the transformation of Venerable Hung-I from a prodigy in all Chinese art forms to a highly venerated Buddhist monk as blogged here was preceded by the Break in Diet that he observed in a temple. I would have to try it sometime to see whether that can fix my stomach problem.

Arts Appreciation

Wify and I attended a get-together held at the home of her Arts teacher, Mrs. Fan, at 2pm today. In attendance too were Mrs Fan's other students in the same class, a prospective student, Linda, and her friends living in the same area, Mr. And Mrs. Huang. A subsidiary purpose was viewing of Mrs. Fan's drawings as well as making digital copies of some of her works to be put in this blog, with her consent of course.

Even though this was our second visit (read here for our first visit), I had to make a few turnarounds in order to reach the destination. We started in heavy downpour at our end but reached there in the dry, reliving the spotty nature of afternoon showers that we used to experience back home.

While the lady host and the lady guests were in the kitchen and various parts of the houses engaging in animated conversations of their own, the gentlemen were at the living room exchanging views on the latest developments in the political front, sometimes distracted by the live telecast of the professional football game between the Chargers and the Colts variously when points were scored by either side.

Ladies first (from left: Linda, Wify, Mrs. Fan, Ling Yi, and Claudia; not here is Julie Huang who arrived after the photoshoot.)

The gentlemen's turn, taking a brief break from their discourse to pose for yours truly (from left: Bill, Steve, and Mr. Fan, the host; by the same token, Mr. Huang is not to be seen here).

Midway through it all, I retreated to the backroom to take digital photographs of the works of Mrs. Fan. Even though these works were done decades ago while she was still in/just out of college back in Taiwan, most of them are in pristine condition, a testimony to the high quality of the drawing material used and the meticulous care she has invested in the upkeep of the drawing pieces. Much more impressive are the efforts she had put into each of the drawings, sometimes requiring triple make-over to embellish certain exquisite details such as the hair-do, the dress design, or the leaf canopy. The results are a stunning set of individually rendered artworks that she has graciously agreed to have them illuminate today's blog. Thanks, Mrs. Fan.

Admittedly the photographic effect is not the greatest such that it interferes with the lustrous appeal of the artworks. Just take my word that the actual drawings outshine their digital counterparts, another instance that nothing beats the real thing.

Then we were treated to a scrumptious food offering prepared by the hosts and the lady guests. And we left just when the game between the Giants and the Cowboys got underway, and were pleasantly surprised by the relatively bright outdoor during our drive home, which is usually dark this time of the year when dusk starts to set in. But the images of Mrs. Fan's drawings that follow will forever remain a bright spot on this blog irrespective of the time of the day.

This was taken at our home prior to our departure, showcasing wify's now famous fruit basket.

The lady bearing a gift to commemorate longevity. Just the hair-do with the flower garland of sort is enough to highlight the patience, the soft touch put into the effort.

The lady rowing a log on choppy waters. The flow streaklines are visible on the drawing, which illustrate the uneven flow surface, but hardly noticeable here. Note also the exquisite design pattern on the dress.

The lady reading by the window. Here the details are in the leaf canopy.

The lady in a pensive mood. Note again the design pattern on the dress.

Two ladies in a rocky landscape.

The lady perhaps just about to play the Gu Zen, a traditional chinese musical instrument, still wrapped in a cloth sheath.

Contemplations from Dealing with Sub-Zero Condition

We experienced a staggering cold front earlier in the week, the night temperature on Wed (Jan 2, 2008) going south of zero. According to the local news, the temperature of 28 degree Celsius persisted for about 7-8 hours through the night. Worried of frost damage, wify moved the plant basket she received as a gift from her Arts teacher into the house. And we dutifully switched on the heater. CE was in thick clothing, and me, clad in two T-shirts.

As a result, I did not feel the frigid onslaught. But the drive to the office the following morning was an entirely different matter. I had to first brave the wind chill (fortunately the car was just parked outside our home), then I had to deal with the extremely cold condition in the car, having being left under the elements overnight, especially the stark steering wheel, it being the only part that my raw skin (my palms) came in contact with. Then it was a short walk (a brisk one) to the office from the parking garage, hands in pockets, but the face stricken the worst in the breezy street. All in all, everyone in the family survived unscathed. And I shudder to think how we would have fared if an arctic storm like the one that pummelled California later in the week were to assail us. Time to feel thankful.

The temperature on the following night (Jan 3) was above zero, and wify and Yu Huei decided to host a steam boat dinner, a vegetarian one, in our home. The guests of honor were yours truly and Viky, a USF doctoral student from China whom we have befriended when we first met him at the Middle Way Buddhist Association.

Yu Huei brought along a table top gas stove fired from gas canisters. It's a compact little thing the size of a Phone book that fits into a similar size suit-case-like container. We propped it on top of a phone book, and placed it at the center of the dinner table, surrounded by dishes of raw vegetables, taufo, noodles, and other vegetarian goodies but with meaty food names (Sigh!).

We first slided plates of food items into the boiling pot, then covered it to let it boil and then simmer somewhat. Then it was an alternate process of removing the cooked food for consumption and placing new food items to replenish the pot.

Soon we were all satiated, and adjourned to a game of 3D Tic-Tac-Toe, one we bought at 75% discount from CVS as part of a post-Christmas sale. Viki took turns to match wits with wify and Yu Huei while I stayed above the fray but not necessarily feeling under-matched. After a few rounds, including one where his left hand played with his right (apparently he did this quite often back in China in his younger days since he is the only child), Viky concluded that the game confers unfair advantage to the first mover. Life is perhaps analogously similar, there is really no level playing field and all one can realistically attain is to reduce the disparity, in general.

Then yesterday we sent WT back to Hume Hall after both WT and CE had a hair cut at the SuperCuts and we collected our prescription glasses in the morning, the car journey relatively congestion-free and uneventful. Then we dropped by Lin and Huang's place for a tasty bowl of porridge (actually several bowls) cooked with chicken broth. In turn, wify exchanged her recipe of seafood porridge (tilapia slices, bay scallops, finely cut carrot strands, and cut celery considered good for the heart) with the Lins.

Being further inland compared to Tampa, Lin related the demise of several of his flower plants left outdoor to defend themselves against the brief cold spell several nights ago. But his vegetable plot survived. As in life, sometimes human intervention is necessary to nudge life forward, but not to the extent of creating a subsidy mentality, a dependency syndrome that hurts in the long run.

A Welcomed Reprieve

Today was the day of the appointment wify had with the ophthalmologist, the result of a referral by the optometrist. In layman's term, the ophthalmologist would be the eye doctor, a medical doctor specializing in the eye, and the optometrist, an optician, being a person trained and skilled in examining and testing the eyes for defects, in order to prescribe corrective lenses or treatment.

Wify was naturally apprehensive (I think anyone would be when the word “surgery” is mentioned, no matter how minuscule the risk can be). But I assured her that today's purpose was merely to get a medical opinion from a certified professional, and we do not have to commit to a surgery, as yet. Part of her fear, phobia being too strong a word, perhaps arises from her experience in Malaysia, albeit limited, where surgery (the common term used there is operation) seems to be the very first option recommended by doctors, especially by those in private practice.

I tried to allay her misgivings by citing, firstly, doctors in US likely would not go the way of surgery lightly, given that this is a litigious society where suits are filed at the slightest excuse. And secondly, cataract surgery is performed routinely on senior people whose recuperative ability is perhaps a notch down compared to their middle-aged counterparts such as wify. My colleague just told me that both of his step-parents have undergone cataract surgery when in their 60s and 70s.

Thus fortified, wify stepped into the exam room, in my company, in a somewhat relaxed mood. The only anxious moment was perhaps when the doctor needed to deliver the eye drops twice before wify's eyes were sufficiently dilated for the eye exam.

Well, the diagnosis was confirmed, wify does have cataract, on both eyes. But the good news is she is just at the borderline where the doctor would only recommend surgery if wify feels up to it, i.e, mentally prepared to “go under the knife” so to speak (though from what I heard the cataract surgery only involves a small incision). It seems the doctor sensed from wify's body language that she was not too thrilled to undergo surgery just yet.

The doctor then related her own hesitation when she needed to undergo a C-section when her pregnancy had reached full-term. She even pleaded with her doctor that she was willing to walk around with a belly so as to put off the surgery, but perhaps in jest. Anyway, we appreciated her empathy.

We then sought her professional opinion on the imminence of the cataract surgery based on her diagnosis, to which she replied assuringly, “come back in six months and we will see.” Apparently she was also surprised by wify's power of vision at this stage given her eye condition. Wify's seemed to be leaving the Ophthalmologist's office with a slight spring to her gait.

So wify received a kind of reprieve, from a seeming medical inevitability. But what I'm most glad is that the decision has been made not based on our gut feeling, but rather on the considered diagnosis of a certified professional.

2008 and Life Resolution: The Merging

Following my stock-taking of accomplishments as per the resolutions set in the beginning of the year, it's now time to lay out what 2008 is likely to usher in. It has been quite a mixed bag as far as 2007 goes, though I managed to stay true on some chosen goals, especially those on the spiritual side of things.

Personally, I still have some way to go in terms of temperament, the failure to put a lid on it often manifest in raised voice and impatience, principally because I still cannot let go of the self. And the person who feels most keenly my lack of self control is none other than wify. Somehow we seem to be more patient with friends and colleagues, and not those closest to us. If a question gets asked once too many, we bark the answer back, the delivery of which becomes a rude awakening even to ourselves in hindsight.

So this will be my first resolution for 2008. In fact, let it be the only resolution. Because everything else will fall into place once we stay on even keel. But that's the easy bit, setting the resolution. The tough part is realizing it. Just merely mouthing or penning the resolution does not mean that it will come to fruition on its own. I need to set strategies, think them through, thinking ahead is forearmed, while reacting only invites tension and strained relation at best.

First, I would have to think less of myself, diminishing the propensity for self-centered thinking. Removing the self from the mix often changes the perspective, enabling the reign of rationality leading to considered response.

Second, I would have to put myself in others' shoes. In that way, it becomes easier to understand why an action will evoke a particular response, thereby engendering empathy and facilitating the forging of compromises.

Third, I would have to listen more. Since one can't possibly talk and listen at the same time, it will curtail the time of admiring one's own voice, and in the process, make communication a decidedly two-way process.

Last but not the least, I would have to discontinue my tendency to indulge in wise cracks and sardonic remarks. Such utterances may seem innocuous at the time, but a feeling hurt is sometimes so camouflaged as to escape our notice during the heady moment. And instead of establishing rapport, they might just alienate people.

All these can best be summed up in a word: compassion. In a nutshell, I resolve to be a compassionate person in the Buddhist sense of the word, not merely for the sake of feeling good. Not only for the new year, but from this very moment onward, rendering it a life resolution.

Stock Taking of 2007

As the Chinese proverb goes, time passes like arrow, and at the turn of the eye we are now at the end of 2007. It is also the time to take stock of the events that have occurred over the year, so as to prepare for the coming year.

It's fortunate that I have listed a litany of things that I would like to see accomplished in 2007, a kind of new year resolutions made at about the same time but one year removed. So it becomes just a matter of going down the list, checking the item off one by one. Here I go.

a) Non-smoker: Checked. Thanks to the fact that most, if not all, establishments impose a “No Smoking” policy. Now the most I would encounter is the occasional arm stretched out of the window, a burning cigarette dangling from the fingers, while trailing in traffic. Other times I may step on some cigarette butts on the ground. But most often than not, it's the virtual variety, meaning those seen in TV or the movie.

b) Non-drinker: Checked. While I have visited the area liquor shops several times, these visits were made with wify as consuming wine is one of the ways she fights off the cold weather. Also, it conforms to the social norm here when wine is being served so that my abstinence would not seem too out-of-place. Since wify does not drive, our arrangement would ensure that drinking and driving does not mix in our household.

c) Conscientious blogger: Checked. Our blogs have always been based on our personal journey through life, and personal reactions to actual events, with increasingly more works of English translations of Chinese Buddhist articles. Proper attribution is always given when third party materials are used. In the year, we have also added an interactive blog devoted to wify's drawings, and another two non-interactive blogs focused on the English translations of wisdom gems embodied in Buddhist verses and Chinese literature. Here, interactivity refers to whether the readers' comment facility is enabled.

d) Giving: Checked. In line with one of the six paramitas (perfections) advanced in Buddhism, we have been supporting area Dharma events both in cash donations and in kind. Admittedly, with our limited resources, we have given less to the needy outside of the Buddhist sphere, but that's a balancing act one would have to reconcile for oneself.

e) Photo scenes: Checked. Photo images of nature and life' ongoings continue to enliven our blog pages, digitally, and also fill up our photo books, in prints, enhancing our memory stores considerably.

f) Making good relations: Checked, with a small red flag. While this may be a rather subjective assessment, I do feel that I have become a better human being to those around me in terms of controlling my temper. While feelings of dislikes, irritations, displeasure do creep up once in a while in my consciousness, I was able to contain them where they belong, in my mind, and let them pass by contemplating their empty nature in the grand scheme of things. But I still have to work on my body language (the body reflects what the mind thinks) and the urge to feel smug through making witty (in my naivete) retorts. I find that taking deep breaths and reciting Buddha's name silently help in those situations, even during the occasional bouts of insomnia.

g) Actualizing the Bodhisattva Way: Checked, with a fluttering red flag. I still find it hard to dispense with the discriminatory way. The mind habitually calculates the personal benefit and loss columns and tallies the mental ledger. But at least I am beginning to realize such thought arising and to deal with it there and then. We have started observing the Ten-Vegetarian Day mode of food intake, finding that vegetarian cuisine can be as tasty too, thanks to wify's culinary repertoire.

h) Environmental Consciousness: Half-Checked. That means more can be done. Our energy saving measures include changing the light bulbs to the CFL kind, by replacement as they wear out, switching off lights when not in use, relying on natural conditioning (but heating is better managed than air-conditioning. It seems the body is better able to withstand cold and dry than hot and humid condition), planning car trips, and for myself, driving economically, which means easy on the pedal.

i) Healthy Diet: Checked. This is a desirable outcome from (g) above. Others include less sugar intake, going for wholemeal bread, using olive oil. And above all, drink more water.

j) Exercise: Half-Checked. I have been parking at the multi-level parking garage that involves some walking to my office. But this is incidental in the sense that that remains the closest, legal one anyway, parking facility. It's the promenading part (along the Bayshore Boulevard) that I have failed wify. But our infrequent trips to the Lettuce Lake Park, one that makes more sense logistically after our move from South Tampa to next to USF, did help ease her disappointment somewhat. For some time now we have also started a daily morning routine exercise, Lifting the Sky, thanks to wify's insistence and WJ's letting us into his exercise regimen. This is a simple body exercise involving moving the out-stretched hands in circular motion, first upward from the downward pointing position, frontally, holding the skyward position over the head for a while (hence, lifting the sky), and then side-way to both sides of the body in the downward swing, slowly. Breathe in and breathe out on the upward and downward swings, respectively. We usually do it ten times. A Malaysian friend who has started the routine reported disappearing body aches and less tendency to succumb to fatigue.

k) Balancing Work and Life: Checked. Other than the occasional checking in at the office on weekend, accompanied by wify of course, to make sure that the numerical modeling runs are not abortive, my work has stayed at the office. More important, I am increasingly able to detach the mind from work-related matters during off-work mode. Any such thought that happens to arise would just pass with me merely observing.

l) Prayer for global peace: Checked. This is a resounding one, it being the least I could do.

Having done the stock taking on the penultimate day of 2008, it leaves the last day, which is tomorrow, for my 2008 resolutions. Let's see what I can come up with.

Much Ado About Tipping

A popular social norm today is tipping, for a service rendered that's beyond the call of duty. It could be a pizza delivered to the door, a help with the luggage at the airport, eating out at a restaurant, or a hair-do. Usually the amount of the tip is commensurate with the manner in which the service is rendered, thoughtful, courteous, patient, all judged in the eyes of the patron. But like the minimum wages, there are minima, either as an absolute amount or more often than not as a percentage of the dollar cost of the service, the so-called industry standards whereby any self-respecting patron would hesitate to breach.

However, apparently some did, breach the unwritten rule. This is the only reason why I think some businesses include the gratuities in the check presented to the patron for payment. From my personal experience, I note that this latching on applies to parties exceeding a certain number, say 5, or 10.

Conceptually, I have no problem with tipping, it being a kind and appreciative gesture from one who receives the service, that it is not a free service notwithstanding. But I do believe it has to be voluntary, and not forced upon the patron. Compounded with the practice being pegged to the size of the party, it behooves the patron to examine the check whether gratuities are already included, and not parting with unintended cash unwittingly.

This was what happened to me some time ago, and I only found out that I actually paid double the accepted percentage when I casually scanned the receipt after the fact, at home. Of course I have nobody else to blame except myself since I failed to read the fine print thereon. While I certainly can live with the extra expenses, I did not feel that the service rendered was above the norm as to justify the 40% tip.

Then more recently, it almost happened again, when I had already scribbled out the twenty percent tips on the check when my eyes caught the word, gratuity, as a line item further down, the industry standard of 18%. What would you do under the circumstances? Be magnanimous and in the process make the waitress happy, though she might not have realized it? Or stick to the principle that a generous tip above the industry standard is a just reward for service par excellence?

I compromised, I struck out the tenth digit, and kept the additional single digit dollar tip unchanged, effectively giving a total tip of close to 25%.

Then this morning I was doing a transaction at a local Bank of America office. While lining up at the counter, I noticed this poster with the big caption, “You're the Boss”. That got me thinking, am I really the boss when a gratuity amount is included in the check, without any input from me save to decide whether the service is deserving of more? What ever happened to the hitherto sacrosanct adage that “the customer is right”?

To a degree, this pondering over tipping would seem petty, even frivolous. Have we been living in such comfort, oblivious to the much larger challenges in life, that we even have time to indulge our precious time and thinking faculty in the matter?

Buddha taught us to live in the moment, and to let go when the moment passes. But only the moment, and not the lessons that it bestows.

I too shall let the moment go, but will be circumspect in the future, not just when tipping, but in all matters. Above all, I will do good, not just feel good when seen to be doing good.

The Stuff that LEGEND is Made of

One of my favorite actors is Will Smith, though not from the days of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. But after he has moved to the big screen, starting with Wild Wild West. Then there is Independence Day, Enemy of the State, I Robot, The Hitch, and most recently, The Pursuit of Happyness.

When his latest offering, I Am Legend, came out, this month, the kids have been clamoring to watch it in cinemas. And we gladly obliged, yesterday, at the Muvico venue in New Tampa. This is our very first visit to the complex, one devoted solely to movie screening. The seats are spacious, well cushioned, and arranged with the best incline so as no patron's line of sight would be obstructed regardless where one sits. So we settled in to a fabulous treat of sight and sound.

It has been a while since we were at a cinema, being contented to the home setting, watching DVDs the progress of which can be controlled at the finger's tip. A call came in, no problem, pause and wait. Need to answer the call of nature, no problem there, the pause key is always available, though at the expense of continuity. Then again, it's just a movie, nothing earth-shattering there. There are much larger irritations in life that we need to worry about, or fuss over.

So we were pleasantly surprised by the varied pre-movie entertainment provided by ScreenVision, not the usual fare of static displays that we had grown accustomed to. As patrons started to trickle in, the screen alternated between film clips and slide advertisement, interspersed with movie trivia for those who need to be challenged. Soon it was time for the feature presentation (from this point on there maybe some plot spoilers, even though I have omitted any reference to details, but focused on some broad features), Dr. Robert Neville (played by Will Smith) and Sam (his canine companion) against a whole colony of mutated human beings who had lost the last vestiges of human behavior, thanks to the wondrous cancer drug-turned-viral scourge that decimated close to 99% of world's population through aerial spread and contact. [The image is from here.]

The last 1% of Homo sapiens who possessed natural immunity were gradually being annihilated by this pack of mutants who roamed New York City nocturnally. And light remained the greatest ally of Dr. Neville. But he did not give up, tirelessly looking for the medical vaccine in his basement lab, and conducting trials, first on rats, and then the captured mutants, if it proved promising. Dutifully, everyday he broadcast using a radio frequency to others survivors, and to meet him at a dock, at noon, when the sun is at its highest. “You're no alone,” he concluded his daily broadcast.

Somewhere along the way, he lost Sam, whose immunity was only against air-borne propagation when it was mauled by a pack of infected canine. In the end, he was forced to killed Sam in his embrace, tears streaking down his face, when Sam started to exhibit rabid behavior.

That's when his resolve broke, and he rampaged over the mutants at night, when he knew better to stay indoor, trying to kill them all with his SUV, but to no avail when he was up against a stampede. I guess he was being human after all, after more than three years of talking only with Sam and mannequins, both unable to respond in kind. To bring home the point, he even remembered the lines of Shrek and the donkey in the movie.

As predictable as any movie, help had to come from somewhere at the brink of his demise. The company of one soon expanded to three. But events took a nasty turn when the mutants found out where he stayed, a brick building fortified by metal doors and windows and rigged with explosives and spot lights all around. In the final battle between the good and evil, he was systematically outnumbered by the mutants, guided by their animal instincts and single-mindedness to destroy all humans without regard to their own lives. Just like in an animal herd, a lead of the pack stood out, and seemed to be able to marshal a concerted attack, even replicating a trick used by Neville to trap one of its own.

The end is almost inevitable, that the hero would have to sacrifice his own life for the salvation of humanity, but not before he realized where the cure lied, the blood of his human trial, but at low temperature, and he passed a vial of it to the other two survivors who continued on to reach the survivor colony up in Vermont (it seems the cold temperature there has rendered the virulent virus inactive). Thus a legend was born, and his legacy remained.

The doomsday scenario as painted in the movie is a scary one, and seems more plausible than the nuclear winter, the climate change-induced calamities, and certainly alien attack that have typified the disasters movies of note to date. What with genetic engineering, the biological warfare, coupled with human greed that is always at the center of things, the viral scourge would seem more imminent than the other threats to the human species as we know it.

But I doubt this “concern” would ever stay in our consciousness for long, knowing full well this movie would be just another make-believe cinematic stimulation that would not go beyond the confines of the five senses. It's more likely most people would just marvel how Will Smith alone could carry the entire film on his broad shoulders, reminiscent of Tom Hank's role in Cast Away.

Releasing Life Across the Ocean

We have been releasing life here at Tampa, under the able management of Yu Huei. Then an opportunity presented itself for an overseas endeavor when Bhante Dhammawansha made a trip back to Sri Lanka recently.

While this remains a vicarious experience, the compassion it engendered and the Dharma bliss it imparted, are no less contagious. It also marks the first time that the release life activity has involved a large animal, and not the usual petite beneficiaries that are only larger in number.

This time, it's a baby cow, released to be in the care of a farmer caretaker. And here are some photos, courtesy of Bhante, to commemorate the occasion.

The farmer, palms joined, was thankful for being bestowed the opportunity to do a wholesome deed. And the baby cow, with a touch of white mane on its forhead, seemed to be bowing its head in gratitude for the freedom to roam the rural landscape.

Bhante Dhammawansha, second from right, sitting atop a huge rock, eyes gazing into the distance, the luxuriant green as the backdrop, with his fellow Sangha members.

Plain Yet Tasteful (Beauty in Simplicity)

Venerable Hui Zhen is one of the several Buddhist teachers that we have had the good fortune of meeting in person, and from whom we have benefited immensely through attending their Dharma talks in the process. We have known of his literary prowess then, when he interspersed his Dharma lectures with his inspiring stanzas that he has penned. In this respect, I have even translated one of his Mindful Dispensations appearing in his blog here.

Recently, we learned that he has decided to publish his first book comprising various short articles, poems, and a daily journal on his stint of self-confinement. We received the book , appropriately entitled Plain yet Tasteful (loosely translated), as a gift sent through Sister Yu Tze, one of wify's Buddhist friends, some time ago.


And for the past week or so, I have been poring over the book, a few articles at a time. I note that the article that I have translated is in there. So is one of the stanzas he recited to us that I have not had the chance to write them down. It's really a hilarious piece of writing, poking fun at our excuses for not learning the Dharma. Here I have attempted to provide an English translation, hopefully injecting some of the jestful humor and more important, the earnest admonishment embedded therein. But I can assure you that in no way it will ever match the witticism in simplicity and rhythmicity so obvious in the original creation. Such is the beauty of prose written in its native language that it is invariably lost in translation.

Here then is the translation (for the original stanza in Chinese, please contact Venerable Master Hui Zhen via his website for a copy of his book. He would welcome any support to defray the cost of publication):

Listen But Don't Understand
Listen But Don't Understand! Listen But Don't Understand!
Not because I don't come to listen,
but that I never wish to understand.
Listen But Don't Understand! Listen But Don't Understand!
How could one understand without listening?
Not understanding is precisely the need to listen.
Listen But Don't Understand! Listen But Don't Understand!
Not listening does not make you understand.
Not understanding does not relieve you from listening.
Not listening nor understanding removes you further from understanding.
Listen! Listen! Listen! Understand! Understand! Understand!
You will only understand after you have listened.
It's imperative that you listen more after you have understood.
Understand! Understand! Understand! Listen! Listen! Listen!
Listen carefully, understand with all your heart.
Eventually one day you will understand what you have listened.

Then I came across a couplet that describes the serenity, the expanse, the quiescence imparted by a majestic mountain range, much like a Zen practitioner, not moving even though there is coming and going, as experienced by Venerable Master Hui Zhen whose abode snuggles on a hillside. Another occasion for wify to practice her Chinese calligraphy and brush painting to match the mood engendered by the couplet, which says, in English translation:

The sound of the pine, the sound of the bamboo, the sound of bell chiming and drum beating, all are carefree sounds.
The mountain scenery, the water scenery, the colorful tapestry of the misty dusk, all are emptiness of form.

Note that the couplet is to be read from top to bottom and right to left.

A Trip to the Optometrist Office

Today I took the afternoon off from work to have my vision checked. It has been close to 4 years since we have had an eye exam. And lately, the road signs have begun to seem a bit blurry. Some of the times I even have to temper my seeing with my thinking faculty to complete the recognition process, kind of putting two and two together.

Of course it's a family affair, CE having hers done two days earlier. This is because the optometrist has a rule that at most two family members can be seen on the same day. Apparently some patrons renege on the appointment without informing, thereby ruining the optometrist's business for the day when the block reservation turns out to be a no show, en masse.

Wify's appointment was actually on Saturday, and WT and mine, today. But we were told by the optometrist two days ago that she could come as a walk-on, and would be seen if time permits. The moment we stepped through the door, Dr. Church announced that wify's slot was assured.

Wify was the first to be seen, then WT, and I brought up the rear. We were first examined by the technician, at a counter upon which rests three table top contraptions. All are equipped with a head size frame that supports the chin (bottom) and the forehead (top).

I first looked into the first machine, and had the feeling of lights being shot at my eyes. At the second machine, some bursts of air were shot into my eyes alternately. The technician explained that it's a pressure test. The last requires a bit of interaction. I was asked to hold a joy-stick kind of thing (minus the pad) and to press a button on its head whenever a light shows up on a screen seen by each eye in turn. I did that dutifully, noticing the light coming up all over the circular screen, one at a time. Apparently, it's a test for peripheral vision (I overheard the technician explaining to wify earlier).

Then it was into a dark chamber where lenses were alternately inserted into slots through which I tried to read the small prints on the frame. At the same time, I would tell the optometrist whether the No. 1 or No. 2 lens was better, i.e., the letters were clearer. As I recall, this seems to be the only part I was tested on when seeing an optometrist back home.

The last part of the eye examination was dilation whereby several eye drops were introduced into my eyes. After about half an hour, I was called into another chamber where the optometrist shone a pencil of strong light into my eyes when they were focused on different directions, the point being for the optometrist to look into the pupil and the back of my eyes to look for tell-tale sign of cataracts, glaucoma, and impaired tiny blood vessels caused by widely fluctuating levels of blood sugar common to diabetics. Except for some increase in the power, the optometrist has declared me to be otherwise enjoying a clean bill of health for my eyes.

Wify was diagnosed with cataract, a clouding of the natural lens of the eyes. It seems that's an eye disease that comes with aging, though it is a bit early for wify's age. The optometrist has referred her to an eye doctor since it would require surgery, or rather a surgical procedure, for its treatment. So the prescription for her glasses would have to wait since all she needs might just be reading glasses after her surgery.

As if to allay our anxiety, the optometrist explained that it's an under-an-hour procedure that involves sucking out the brownish growth that covers the pupil and replacing it with an implant.

On the way home, we were each given a piece of sun glasses to help ease temporary blurred vision because of the eye dilation. It's actually just a simple cut-out that one inserts between the glasses and the eyes (see right image). It may look comical on one's face (that reminds me of the two Men in Black but I would not want to be seen in this, hence the image would have to do) but it's definitely practical. And it's free too and we would put them in the glove compartment in case we are driving into the sun (because then nobody would get a good look when we zoom by).

And our normal vision was only restored when I was typing out this blog several hours later. But that did not deter me and wify from joining Mr. John McClane (played by Bruce Willis) for a two-hour escapade in the first Die Hard movie, a rerun courtesy of HBO.