I was going to quote a bunch of stuff that inspired that first sentence. Then I realized I was doing nothing more than playing with quotes and links. My text was shallow. Empty. I created empty content to check-off my nightly “reflect” to-do. How is that for irony? Fooling myself into creating empty calories for the world to consume, for me to pat myself on the back for a job well done, yes, I wrote another night in a row!
So, Ray. Time is slipping. Whether you know it or not. Don’t close your eyes. Consciously watch the time go by, or do something with it. But don’t pretend it isn’t happening by distracting yourself with some bullshit iPhone game. Don’t get rid of boredom by clicking link after link. And when we do, when we amputate another chunk of our precious life by zoning out, stop. Focus.
It’s not your fault. We live in a society of subtle advertising and seductive sensual pleasures. I never thought people could play video games to death.
Rejoice! You are in control. Take some responsibility for your usage of time.
As Steve Jobs asked himself every morning, “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?”
To me, happiness takes effort. It’s not something that comes automatically, especially in this consumer society.
Today, for example, I was sitting at a shoe store, reading Gandhi’s Satyagraha. Every once in a while I looked up to see girls competitively dolled up to look simultaneously slutty, classy, cool, and friendly. They were rushing around trying on new shoes to further enhance their self-image according to marketing lies. Adding to the web of deception, these shoes were on sale: the more you buy, the more you save!
As much as I would like to live in a simplistic society, I do not (yet). So I meditate to retain that peace within, to smile through my daily challenges, to be compassionate to friends, family, and strangers.
When I am swept up in those emotions, when I am overtaken in anger, grief, passion, etc. then I have lost my peace, lost my happiness. That’s why a routine helps, to remind myself to not take things so personally, to view the big picture, to maintain equanimity.
It’s nice to write again. Before, I wasn’t really writing with a purpose. I was doing it because I needed an outlet, and partly due to ego. And to improve my writing.
Nowadays I write because I want to inspire people the way I was inspired by others. I realized that I live a pretty weird lifestyle, but I love it. And lots of people tell me they wish they could be like me. Without others’ sites like Zen Habits, Gwen Bell, Brad P., etc. I wouldn’t have been inspired enough to take action. So I’m trying to improve the world by providing another resource for people to reach whatever goals they want.
I still have personal barriers about what I should share to, essentially, the world. Writing on my blog is one way of conquering that fear. Like I wrote a few posts back about how my dad used to beat me. It wasn’t easy to admit that to the world. But I would have had no problems telling someone face-to-face.
Of course, talking to someone means having to deal with the repercussions immediately. If I told you I masturbated while fantasizing about you, you’d probably react oddly. Perhaps with repulsion. But on the internet, I can click “Publish” and immediately walk away and watch bum fights.
I like asking people, “Why do you live?” To me the question is something that jolts people out of their everyday habits. I don’t want to wake up one day, 80 years old, and realize that I’ll be dying any day now and I hate my wife, I hated every day of my job, I’ve never had the balls to try for art because it was “gay” but now that I’m about to die, does it really matter if people think I’m gay?
So that’s why I ask people that question. I want them to consider the direction their life is heading, if they haven’t already. It’ll be something they consider eventually, if someone close to them dies, or if they get sick, or mid-life crisis hits. It’s better to consider early on rather than on their death bed.
Another example is if a person is in a shit job that they hate and they’re just doing it for one more year, to become partner, then, then life will finally be good. And then they get hit by a bus. In conclusion, that person lived a shit life.
That’s what I’m most afraid of. Not of it happening to me, because I won’t let it. But I fear for the people who are under the delusion of “tomorrow, tomorrow will be when things turn better” and never realizing how they’ve wasted the gift of life.
I view my presence as a gift to everyone I’m around. When I am around family, friends, or even strangers, I am improving their lives, making them happier, increasing their consciousness.
Part of the reason I feel this way is that I am self-sufficient. There’s nothing I need from anyone, I am completely okay by myself.
When I see people fearing loneliness, I think they should actually experience it and get comfortable with it. There’s nothing wrong with loneliness. Being lonely taught me my self-worth. I appreciate my humor, my courage, my independence, my child-like idealism, my ability to see the big picture.
(Some may question my ability to see the big picture, considering I have been unemployed three years and have been living on savings. “What if you run out of money and starve or are forced to work when you are old and sick?”, they ask. Well, we all die. Instead of working hard to collect this invention of mankind called “money”, I choose to make the world a better place for all beings.)
Brad once told me that he views sex as a great experience he gives girls. (As opposed to how the mainstream views sex as something a man takes from a woman.) I used to think his belief was a trick to remove neediness; now I realize how healthy this attitude truly is.
[Inhibitions] imposed from without rarely [succeed], but when they are self-imposed, they have a decidedly salutary effect.
I grew up with a lot of restrictions from my parents. I couldn’t hangout with my friends, I couldn’t watch TV, I couldn’t use the computer, I couldn’t eat candy, I couldn’t drink soda, I couldn’t this, I couldn’t that. Two results: I became so timid I couldn’t even ask for permission for anything I needed, and these suppressed cravings grew out of control.
I learned to be secretive: I snuck out to see my girlfriend, I used the computer at night, I binged on candy when no one was looking, etc. None of these were healthy, but they were what I had to do to satisfy my cravings.
Eventually I grew strong enough to stand up to my parents and satisfy my cravings by myself. I’ve traveled, went on adventures, eaten exotic foods, experienced amazing things. Yet in the end, I wanted more, newer, better. Fulfillment was still distant.
I’ve also experimented with self-imposed restrictions. I became a raw vegan, then a vegetarian. I stopped spending money. I avoid owning stuff. I cut out all alcohol and recreational drugs.
Surprisingly, these restrictions have given me a sense of satisfaction I didn’t get from succumbing to desire. Limiting my choices allowed me to focus on the qualities of everything I already have: my health, my family, my friends.
For example, food. I hardly eat for taste; I eat for nutrition. When I was a raw vegan, shopping for food was dead simple:
Go to the fresh fruits and vegetables section.
Checkout.
The longer I live, the more I realize the fulfillment in living a simple life, freed from the chains of craving and aversion.
I take my meds and I turn into Hyde. Seriously. I woke up this morning, feeling happy and my usual tranquil self. Yet yesterday, as aware as I was that I was short-tempered, I couldn’t control the words coming out of my mouth. Eventually just shutting my mouth was the best I could do: damage control.
I just took my meds. They will kick in soon. I will feel woozy and impatient again.
Perhaps I should view this as a test of my equanimity, sensitivity, and compassion. Can I overcome the meds’ side effects and still be tranquil?
Wendy was cold and borrowed one of her aunt’s scarves or whatnot. She liked it so much she asked if she could borrow it back to Hong Kong. Her aunt gave her a stern look and said, “I’m going to check your luggage before you leave.”
My mom was vacuuming the apartment. I walked into the bathroom and told her I was taking a shower. She said, “What? Every time I am about to vacuum the bathroom you take a shower!” I responded, “You’re never going to vacuum the bathroom! PUAHAHA!!!” and closed the door.
I bring these two up in contrast to many of the sarcastic jokes I’ve said in the past, which have left room for confusion and the potential to hurt. I’d like to steer my humor toward a more positive, lighthearted, obvious sense.
Gabriel said, “Sarcasm is when you say something nice but actually mean something mean. Teasing is when you say something mean but actually mean something nice.”
The meds make me irritable. Today I was well aware of snapping back at my parents, yet I couldn’t control myself.
My mom asked me to explain something but kept butting in as I did so. After the second interruption I snapped, “Fine, you explain it.” And walked away.
Walking away was the best thing I could have done at that point. Otherwise I would have kept up my hostile attitude and worsened the situation.
I’m glad I was able to sense when I just wasn’t in the mood and able to remove myself from the situation.
The meds are making me sleepy as well. Only two more days! I don’t like drugs.
Sometimes I get these headaches. These dull, throbbing headaches in the back of my head, slightly toward the left side. The pulsing sensation spiders out to the rest of my head.
These headaches used to follow a night of heavy drinking. “Never again!”, I proclaimed again and again.
This New Year’s, thanks to my friend Adam, I was able to quit drinking. I lost all desire to do so, and with it, hangovers. So I thought.
Sometimes these “hangovers” happen because I had done yoga in the morning, biked for an hour, and forgotten to drink water. Dehydration headaches. Lesson learned: I make sure to hydrate myself sufficiently.
Sometimes they happen because I slept too much and in a weird position. I think tonight’s “hangover” happened because of this.
Tonight I took my bronchitis medicine and went to sleep. Within an hour and a half, I woke up with a headache. I was still sleepy—my eyes were too tired to browse blogs on my iPhone—yet the throbbing was unbearable.
I decided to take a walk. I got dressed and headed out the door. My dad asked where I was going. I told him I’m taking a walk, I have a headache.
“You have a headache?”
I stared at him for a minute, said something curt, and left.
Waiting for the elevator, I realized that the combination of being rudely awakened, in pain, and reminded of how insignificant I am in my father’s eyes caused me to lash out at him. I jotted a note to myself, “Not feeling well is not an excuse to be a dick.”
As I walked in the streets, I felt a chill and realized I should have brought a jacket. I went back up and picked up my hoodie. On my way out, as a better-late-than-never gesture, I politely told my dad that I was going out again.
I walked alongside the water, clearing my head, distracting my mind from the pain. By the time I walked to the end of the trail, the headache was still there but my body was reminding me that it was still sleepy. I walked back.
As I neared the apartment I finally got my focus back. I became present. The predominant thoughts how my dad’s such a dick subsided. The pain was still there, but I was able to just observe it, rather than identifying with it.
I realized that my animosity toward my dad may never go away, and accepted that as another fact of life. I will keeps fighting the barriers between us, of course: my weapons are compassion, tolerance, and patience.
I went to the doctor today, finally. He asked me a few questions, listened to my chest, front and back. He said I have minor bronchitis and prescribed medicine for three days. Avoid oranges, eat apples.
Then my mom asked about my thinness, my diet, meditation, and yoga. The doc told me that vegetarianism is fine, but to eat beans for protein and take B12 supplements. I noticed I was a bit defensive about my diet, but I tried to dampen my ego and listen to what the doctor was saying.
I went home and took the meds. “MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS, DO NOT DRIVE VEHICLE” was no joke. I suddenly couldn’t focus on writing and had to lie down. I still felt drowsy when my dad woke me up for dinner two hours later.
Three days of meds and rest should go by quickly, especially if the expectorant keeps knocking me out like it did earlier.
We once had a bug infestation at our place. I had been getting random bites every night I slept, and we discovered that there were bugs everywhere! We just never saw them because they were so small. So my mom went on a mission, vacuuming up bugs all over the ceiling and walls.
At one point she was in my room, exclaiming, “Bite my son? Bite my son?”
I was never told when dinner was and nobody called me to wake up. Yet my dad was rushing and yelling at me as if I were the one who had mismanaged time.
I quickly imagined what happened: My dad was tired of shopping with my mom, so he went back. But he stopped at the jockey club first. There, he lost track of time and suddenly rushed home to wake me up for dinner. He didn’t want to be late, and definitely didn’t want anyone to think it was because he was at the jockey club, so he focused all his self-created agitation on me and my mom. (He also yelled at my mom over the phone that we’re late and to stop shopping.)
I realized before I even got out of my bed that I had been triggered. I wanted to snap back, “You never told me when dinner was, you came back late and now you’re blaming me?” But that would have been unproductive. My goal was not to one-up my dad and shut him up good. My goal to improve our family’s harmony, to improve my own tolerance, and, if possible, to make him see his own errors.
So I first calmed myself down. I got ready, talked to him calmly, found out what was agitating him (“We need to bring some chicken!”) and figured out a solution (“We can get some at the restaurant near Uncle’s place.”)
As we took the tram toward the chicken, my dad calmed down. I indirectly tried to get him to reveal why he was late, asking him why he didn’t call me. He accused me of being a heavy sleeper, that a phone call wouldn’t have woken me up. “So you didn’t even call.” Yup.
I decided that a public tram wasn’t the best place to grill my dad. Also, I wasn’t sure if would help him gain insight or feed my ego.
Dinner went well and the mood lifted. I planned on interrogating my dad once we got back, but I no longer care for the “truth”, which would only feed my ego.
In the past, I was very ill-tempered when being woken up. I credit the meditation I did prior to my nap for saving my dad and me from having an unnecessary argument.
I’m sick. I’ve been sick the past three week. I have this persistent cough that, despite my efforts to eat healthier, exercise, take cough medicine, sleep a ton, etc. I haven’t been able to eradicate it. I’ve also been growing thinner. I’m already thin, so it’s pretty noticeable. (Though I think that’s mostly due to last week with Dave and the past two nights with Wendy, which really cut into my sleep time.)
I’m tired. I went to sleep at 5 this morning, chatting with Wendy until 4 and writing until 5. Then I had to get out of her apartment at 9:45, have dim sum with my grandma (and see Stephanie and her boyfriend), go to my Uncle 2’s place. Once there, I fell asleep, only to be woken up by my aunt to play mahjong. Eventually we ate dinner and I passed out again immediately afterward, exhausted.
I just took the train back. Despite my lack of responsibilities in the traditional sense, I’ve been busy. This morning I tried to label my “job”. “Full-time relative” describes the spirit of my motives, but I don’t only hang out with relatives all the time. I came up with “people person”, though it doesn’t describe the extent I do this. “Full-time friend”? “Happiness agent”? I dunno.
Getting back on topic, I was talking to my mom about how tired I was, but my cousin Jenny’s coming back from Japan in a few days and I have to deal with her. She said I don’t have to deal with her if I don’t want to. But I do! I want to see her, I rarely get to see her, and I want to share my good vibes with her.
That’s how I see myself these days. I go around and share my positive energy with people. I get people to think, to reflect, to be happy. I do this in real life and online with my writing. Despite my weakened condition, I am enthusiastic to use my remaining energy to spread happiness.
But of course, I should curb my ego. Ray is a person too, and I need to take care of myself. I need to make sure that my health is okay. If I don’t take care of myself, how can I help others?
Last week I went to a Christian home meeting, expecting philosophy and free food, but was instead thrown headfirst into a Jesus love-fest aimed to pressure the weak-willed and lost into converting. Tonight I went again. Why?
I withheld my tongue last week. Dave was there and I didn’t want to make a scene. Also I was caught off guard. This week I was ready, and I wasn’t going to hold back.
Last week I was pretty emotionally charged. Anything that affects me this much is a great opportunity to practice equanimity.
My mom believes that Christians will only hang out with other Christians or the soon-to-be-converted. If the newbie doesn’t convert after a while, he/she will be ostracized. Whether it’s by her influence or my own experience, I believed that as well. I want to believe that people of all beliefs can be friends, but my own prejudices against Christians stood in my way. The only way for me to prove myself wrong was to go again.
So I went. We basically repeated last week’s activities: singing, eating, more singing, discussion, reading from the manual on how to be a good Christian, and finishing with dessert.
But this time I just…chilled. I sat back and vibed in the warm energy of the circle. I took my song sheet but felt no pressure to sing. I read from the how-to-be-a-good-Christian manual because, hey, it’s just reading.
I realized that all of last week’s pressure was self-generated. There was never any “us-versus-them” situation, it was always just “us”.
Jessica was surprised that I decided to come, given how defensive I was last week. (I e-mailed to confirm before she had a chance to text me!) She especially remembered when I defended her last week: one of the guys was shocked that Jessica hadn’t told me the story of Adam and Eve, putting her on the spot to either explain herself or tell the story right then and there. I redirected the group focus, asking him for his version of the story.
Jessica was simultaneously shocked that she was on the spot, touched that I would defend her, surprised by my defensiveness, and impressed with my ability to manipulate social dynamics.
As Ajahn Brahm enjoys his Christian/Catholic/etc. friends, I, too, would like to have friends of all beliefs and backgrounds. Compassion for all beings!
I’ve been catching my emotional outbursts quickly these days. Just now I shouted to myself, “What the fuck are you?” in response to mysterious voicemails. I felt my own anger flare up, and subside. But I’m catching them before they go away, before they are forgotten.
The goal, of course, is to catch them before they even happen. To be in a blissful, tranquil state, notice the trigger, observe the physical manifestation of the emotion, and get right back to tranquility.
The tranquility I get from meditation is basically the same feeling I get after sex. It’s that release, that feeling of “everything’s right in the world, nothing can bother me” that I practice, trying to maintain that throughout the day. So this is what Ajahn Brahm meant when he said that meditation was “better than sex”.
Today I woke up, meditated, and started my yoga practice. My practice is usually slower than the led classes, and wind up taking about two hours. I wanted to save time in my day so I tried speeding things up. After bending over a few times, I felt lightheaded. I’ve always felt this way due to my low blood pressure, but speeding up my practice worsened the condition. I decided that that’s enough for today.
My mom, of course, attributes it to a lack of meat in my diet. Ok, let’s try it your way. I designated my mom to be my new dietician. Anything she tells me to eat, I’ll eat. I have two weeks until I go to Thailand, where I’ll be eating a vegetarian diet anyway, so this will be a good opportunity to see how my body responds.
So today I ate some spicy beef ramen. I also ate a red-bean pudding cake thing. I disagreed with my mom’s choice, but she’s the dietician.
Afterward I hung out with my mom. I wanted to go home and do some work (transcribing, sorting photos, writing) but my mom seemed to want to hang out, saying we’re going on a date and stuff.
Sure, why not? I only have about two weeks until Thailand, and after that she’s leaving Hong Kong. I hardly ever spend alone time with my mom. This will be a good opportunity for me to get to know her better.
We went shopping and just hung out. Just like I go to dim sum with my grandma to encourage her to exercise, I hung out with my mom for exercise and for fresh air.
For dinner I had some cucumber-like thing with salmon and noodles. Yummy and full of Omega-3 goodness.
Today I had a very normal schedule. I woke up, ate dim sum with Grandma, and meditated. I started meditating 65 minutes yesterday. It’s nice to be at the point where meditation is no longer a struggle and I can slowly increase the time.
My mom and I went shopping for a yoga mat afterward. I bought a “black sapphire” (actually it’s just blue) Manduka. I didn’t care for the price increase, but I foresee using this for the rest of my life, so I figure it’d be good to have a unique colored mat to easily spot it among a sea of black mats.
After buying the mat and carrying strap, my mom chided me that I shouldn’t have bought the strap there, it was so expensive. But since I wanted it so much, she bought it anyway. That triggered me, because I didn’t believe (or want to believe) that I insisted on buying the strap. I recalled her giving initial resistance to buying the strap, but then seeming to change her mind. I never pushed for it.
Yes, maybe I did want the strap. Maybe it was expensive. That’s probably why I was so angry when she chided me afterward. It’s like, what can I do now? Why bring it up now, rather than in the store? My anger welled up and I shot back, “I didn’t say I really wanted it.”
How quickly my anger took over! I felt like I was physically thrown into a hot tub. Yet as soon as I said it, I sensed the physical manifestation of the anger and paused until it subsided. Then I went on my merry way, unaffected by my mom’s remaining chides until we had a merry conversation again.
After shopping, my mom decided to celebrate by going to McDonald’s and eating a $20HKD Big Mac meal. I was glad to hang out with her, but I hadn’t eaten anything for six hours and was getting a little hungry.
That’s ok, though. Dealing with my hunger was a good exercise in equanimity.
Of course, I played with my new toy as soon as I got home. The Manduka provided the cushioning I needed for Garbha Pindasana, where I roll a few times on my spine. It felt slippery compared to the ones I use at the Landmark Mandarin Oriental, where I usually practice, but that just means I haven’t broken them in. Afterward I scrubbed it down with a towel in an effort to break it in faster.
I made a green smoothie. It was filling.
I feel physically tired but mentally alert. Today’s the first day, aside from when Dave was visiting, where I didn’t take an afternoon nap. Last night I slept 8 hours: I slept at 2 and set the alarm for 10. I’m trying to sleep by midnight so I can increase it to 10 hours if necessary, or I’ll just wake up earlier.
Somehow it feels like I didn’t do much today, but I meditated in the morning, practiced yoga, and spent time with my grandmother. That’s at least three things I consistently get done every day. And my nightly meditation and reflection. So that’s five things. Everything else I do on top of that is extra, I guess.
In an effort to improve my reaction time when getting triggered, I’m going to meditate. Good night!
Today I woke up at noon, meditated for an hour. Practiced the Ashtanga yoga primary series up to upavistha konasana. I didn’t go further because the other postures required rolling on my mat, and my mat’s too thin for me to roll on without hurting my spine. I think I really need to get a Manduka.
Meanwhile my mom had made lunch for me. As soon as I was done with my shavasana nap, I ate a bowl of noodles with broccoli and three hard-boiled eggs. For some reason after practicing the primary series I usually pass out. I’ve heard that it’s supposed to invigorate a person; I find the opposite to be true. So I napped from 5 − 8 pm.
When I woke up, I felt shitty. It was hot, my body’s sweaty and sticky, and I couldn’t concentrate because of the TV in the background. All I wound up doing was surf the web for ideas for how to design my site.
I recognized that I was feeling a aversion toward my physical and mental state, so I accepted that that’s how I was feeling.
Okay, now what?
I wanted to call Wendy and talk about my state, but declined because I wanted to do something rather than distract myself from my state. Since I couldn’t concentrate on designing, coding, or transcribing, I decided to work out my state by writing. So here I am.
Hmm, just took a cold shower. That should get rid of the dried sweat from this morning’s workout. I feel a little better.
Just did some transcription. Transcribing at full-speed was impossible. Then I tried Audacity which was what I used to record it in. It was too difficult to use interactively: adjusting the speed took a few minutes (versus on-the-fly speed adjustment in Capo), and everything sounded super deep.
I googled around and found Express Scribe, which was free for personal use. It seemed promising but the controls were unwieldy. There were no keyboard shortcuts to go back a few seconds, which was necessary every 30 seconds or so. Using the mouse to do this was unacceptable.
I remembered Capo and downloaded it. Then I remembered that I already bought Capo for the iPad. Since it’s a universal app, my iPhone would work as well. Downloaded it again, loaded up the audio, crashed. I guess it’s time to restart my iPhone. Loaded it up, and it’s beautiful! Speed adjustment by touch, going back in time at a swipe.
I started the day with my usual routine, felt crappy in the middle, recovered, and started work on transcribing audio. Remembering the impermanent nature of reality helped me through the crappy middle. Time to meditate!
It was nice to have Dave around. Truly inspiring. Now that he’s gone, though, I can get back into my routine: meditation, yoga, connecting, and work.
My work has changed a little. I’ve decided to help Dave with his site and at the same time work on my own. We probably have different design goals with our sites, but the overall goal, to reach people, is the same.
I’m still an enabler. Dave mentioned that when he was in Haiti, he didn’t know how to help out. The other volunteers had arrived before him, so they already knew what they were doing. All he could do was snap pictures and try to spread the word, though he didn’t know how to use any of the technologies to do so.
Well, here I am.
His trip was timely as well. He just came back from Burning Man and came to Hong Kong afterward. The Burning Man and Haiti memories were fresh in his mind, questions about living life still hanging after a shock from routine.
Now I have work to do, so I have to get back into my own routine to make sure I keep working on them, bit by bit.
Last night Dave showed me some photos of Burning Man. It was fun joking about Burning Man, our mutual friends, art, etc. Then he moved onto photos of Haiti he took a few weeks ago.
The mood quickly got serious. I was shocked by what I saw, and his narration was filling in all the details behind each photo. After a few photos I stopped him and told him we have to record all this. His narration was perfect, and we had to do this immediately. So I downloaded an audio recorder and started documenting his Haiti trip.
Photo after photo, he described the deplorable conditions of the Haitians, yet of their happiness and giving spirit. At several points I had to stop him to talk about how I had to help. I felt compelled to help somehow, in any way I can. I knew, though, that with the photos and the audio, we at least had enough raw material for something great.
Once again, I was too excited to sleep. This surge of adrenaline, discovering a purpose in life, kept me up for a while. But not too long. I was exhausted from four days of being a tour guide.
Despite only sleeping three hours, I was glad Dave and I had our talk. This trip we spent most of our time shooting photos, only talking philosophy and life the night before he had to leave. But, man, what a talk.
Today Dave, Jessica, and I walked around Sheung Wan. We explored some historic artifact shops and took a lot of photos.
We shot the most at the street market, though. There were so many little shops run by elderly people who look like they’ve been selling the same stuff for the past 50 years. I shot like mad, and every time we had to move on I felt like I was missing out on some other spectacular shots.
So this is a lesson in being faster, both at shooting and at spotting quality shots. But at the same time, it is a lesson to accept that sometimes there is a limit to how much I can do, how much I can take. Having an overwhelming number of choices sometimes means to just pick a few and move on, without wondering whether I made the right ones or not.
We took Dave to eat at some a noodle shop for lunch and a dai pai dong for dinner. Both times he got to practice using chopsticks. I am proud to have taught him!
I am dead tired. Too much walking. I enjoy having Dave around, but playing tour guide is tiring. Good night!
Dave is in town! We played tourist the whole day, photographing, chatting, and joking. We are all very tired. But the most interesting part was dinner.
Jessica invited me to a house meeting. She had mentioned before that they were Christians, but were open to everybody, and discussed philosophy, the meaning of life, etc. Sure, I was down for that. I brought Dave along.
We arrived and got acquainted. I talked about yoga, Dave talked about photography. We ate dinner in a circle. It was nice.
Then the sheet music was passed around. The mood dramatically changed. Everyone got a sheet. They make sure that Dave and I weren’t left out. Everyone sang except Dave and I.
After the song, praises were made about the song, about how true it was.
One guy, let’s call him Mr. Serious, asked us if we knew the story of the Adam and Eve. I said, “Nope. But I’ve heard variations of it.” He seemed flabbergasted that Jessica hadn’t told it to me, and told Jessica to do so now.
I have been put on the spot in my life a lot. I’ve always hated that, that feeling of obligation, of guilt, of pressure. While I’ve also grown more immune to social pressure the past few years, I still dislike it when people are pressured into doing things.
So when he put my cousin on the spot like that, my immediate response was to defend her and volley back to him. I asked him, “Why don’t you tell me your variation?” He seemed mildly shocked that the spotlight was put on him, but he complied. Detailed explanations were given about the context: Adam and Eve, God becoming human as Jesus to wash our sins, how all we had to do was to believe in Jesus as our savior and we would be saved. Afterward, personal experiences about how the song’s lyrics applied in their lives were shared.
Discussion about the song died down, so we moved onto the “How to Read the Bible” section. Everyone, in turn and in unison, read a few pages from the booklet. We were automatically skipped. I don’t know if they sensed that Dave and I didn’t want to or if they just skip the unconverted. I was relieved, though I was prepared to take a stand. More on this in a bit.
After the reading, Mr. Serious looked at Dave and me and asked if we had any questions. One of the girls raised her hand and quickly realized that he was asking us, but the group’s questions were handled nonetheless. Afterward, Mr. Serious again asked if the two of us had any questions. We had none.
There was some group activity that involved everyone reading lines from the booklet, one after another. When it came to my turn I took the stand I had prepared earlier.
This was done for several reasons. First, I wanted to offer moral support to Dave. I brought him here to see Hong Kong, not to be preached to. I did not want to subject him to any pressure to follow the group, so I figured if I declined then it would make it easier for him to. Second, I didn’t care to. I don’t feel like reading lines out loud, especially if I didn’t believe in them. I am not their monkey. Third, as I mentioned, I dislike people using social pressure to manipulate people. Under those circumstances I prefer to resist rather than to succumb, if only to teach that not all are so easily pressured. So we were skipped once again.
Then we got into verse recital, or rather, verse remixing. One verse was chosen from the booklet and the first few words were spoken, repeated, repeated again, followed by “Amen!”, and repeated a few more times. This was done for every few words, like a broken record player. It went on for a while and I had to pee.
At one point there was a discussion going on and I wasn’t sure if my body was physically acting up because the mind was disliking the external stimuli or if I really had to pee, but I went regardless. In retrospect it could have been my subconscious way of passive resistance, showing my disapproval of the bait-and-switch. It might have worked, because soon afterward dessert was served and Christian talk was over.
Then life went on. We returned to talking about Dave’s photography, I started chatting with a girl about the nutritional value of grapes. It was as though the past hour never happened.
A guest book was brought out. I was asked to sign it. I immediately suspected that Jane, the host, wanted my contact info. Confident that I will not succumb to pressure to do anything I disliked, I agreed without looking to see what the book actually asked me to fill out.
After I was done eating grapes, I washed my hands and went to the guest book. I saw that the majority of the guests had written their names and numbers or e-mail addresses. The exception was the last person, who had merely written enthusiastic thanks. So I followed suit. But even if that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t have given my contact info. Perhaps my e-mail, but not my phone number. I dislike shady maneuvering to pressure people.
I realize that my description of dinner was harsh. But rather than taking a positive spin on it, which I already have, I want to write down how I felt at the time. This is important for me to honestly take a look at my own reaction to this kind of pressure and for those who use these techniques to understand my internal reaction.
I feel that if a religion, philosophy, or lifestyle were truly good, it wouldn’t need these shady techniques to spread. Peer pressure feels wrong and if I were less immune to it, I would simply cease all communication, forever, no matter how many times they called me. That’s the beauty of caller ID.
But I am not that kind of person, and in fact I am an optimist. I would like to believe that this group of people is truly open to non-Christians. I would also like to see how they respond to resistance. If I told them, straight up, that I would never convert, would they instantly de-friend me? Or would we still be able to be friends? My hunch is that they would do the former, but I’d like to find out that I’m wrong.
So I will hang out with them at least once more, given the opportunity. I will not be so passive: I will ask them my real questions and see how they respond. Without my guest, Dave, I will be free put myself in a potentially awkward situation. Let’s see what happens.
Onto the positive interpretation: I understand that this group has found something good that has improved their lives, and want to share that joy. I, too, have found great things that improved my life and want to share it. So we are on the same boat, though we have found different sources of fulfillment. I’m glad that this group so generously welcomed us into their home, shared their food, and shared their experiences. I’m glad that Christianity has improved their lives. May it continue improving people’s lives. May all beings be happy!
When we were in college, Sharon, Eric, and I loved playing light-gun games. The House of the Dead and Time Crisis series were our favorites. The thing was, aiming was difficult. The guns were sometimes off, and a clear, straight shot would be consistently off to the left by an inch.
After a while, I gave up lining up the top of the gun with the targets. Instead I aimed the gun in the general direction, shot, and calibrated. I would see how far off I missed in the first shot, and adjust accordingly. Shoot first, aim later. There was no time to think, with zombies lunging for our throats.
I pretty much do the same thing in any area of life. When I was into photography, I didn’t know what I shot, but I shot a lot of it. I kept shooting and slowly figured out what it was that caught my eye, rather than figuring out why I liked it first. One blink and the moment’s gone.
I’m doing the same thing with this my writing. Some days I have a clear idea of what to write. Other days I just start shooting. Bang! Bang! Bang! I start writing about my day, even if it’s disorganized, even if one tangent follows another. Eventually I hit something good. Or not. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
I tried the planning thing. It led to mental masturbation. “It sure would be nice if I…” No. Nowadays I jump straight into things. If I get the urge to do something, I do it. I don’t wonder, I do. And I learn from my mistakes and go again. And again.
“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is most adaptable to change.” —Charles Darwin
I said that jokingly, and my dad understood the joke, responding, “Yes, I know you’re great.”
Yet there is truth behind that. I don’t beg others for anything. I am pretty self-sufficient. I have my own money, I have only the most basic of needs: food, shelter, time to meditate/read/practice yoga/write. Nothing that costs too much. I can make my own food, I can do my own laundry, I clean my own space.
That is not to say I don’t ask for anything. If anything, I’m extremely lazy. But I take joy in handling my own matters, for the most part.
Today I went to yoga at 7:30, stayed until practiced until 10. I completed the entire primary series on my own for the first time! Mostly it was an issue of remembering the postures. I continued working on drop-backs. I’ve been having trouble opening up my chest, instead bending from the knees, lower back, and neck.
Afterward I went to Moises’ Chakra Balancing class, which seemed like a simplified and re-arranged Ashtanga primary series. It was nice and mellow, after my tough morning practice.
When I was in Seattle a group of my friends did heart-opening exercises. One of them was to stare into another person’s eyes and think, “Your heart is safe with me” and afterward, “My heart is safe with you”. Every time I thought, “My heart is safe with you”, I visualized a steel trap clamping shut around my heart. It was out of my control.
I realized then that I have trust issues. I’ve been working on opening up more and letting go of fear, being vulnerable, and opening myself to love and be hurt. I can’t help but wonder if my difficulties with drop-backs are related to my inability to open up my heart/chest and trust the teacher as she assists.
Oh, slight tangent: my mom seems to have given up on me ever returning to “normal”. For a long time she thought it was a loss, I had so much potential, but now she seems to accept that I have chosen this lifestyle and, gasp, nothing bad has happened! My dad still needs work, but he’s coming along as well.
Last night I updated my iPhone to iOS 5. As Wendy says, I’m not supposed to want anything, but I’m not perfect, and I acknowledge that. I wound up staying up until 3 am playing with it, which isn’t too big of a deal since I slept all day yesterday anyway.
iMessage didn’t work for me, so I set up an appointment at the Apple Store for 2:30 today. My mom had just finished making food for me at that time, so I rescheduled for 4:20. I finished eating at 3:20. I figured I should get out of the door at 3:50. That left half an hour for a nap. Big mistake.
I woke up at 8. Oh well, iMessage isn’t that big of a deal anyway. I called Mom. We picked up Grandma and ate noodles. It was nice to see her again. I haven’t seen her since I’ve been sleeping in instead of doing yoga and dim sum.
Tonight, and last night, my dad rubbed some medicine onto my mom’s toes. Her toes have been hurting. It was very sweet.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad do something like that for my mom. Maybe I just haven’t been paying attention. But I think with all our talks about family, maybe I have reminded my dad what’s really important in life, and with all the positivity I’ve been sharing with my mom, maybe I have created this family harmony.
The past 24 hours have been revelatory. Last night my mom was chatting in my room, so I was stuck in the living room with my dad. I watched him for a few minutes, just…observing. Trying to see the man for who he is, rather than the caricature I have in my mind.
I wondered what his goals were in life, what he defined as success. I thought about my own definition, and started thinking about how I emulate my role models. Hmm, role models… “Dad, who are your role models?”
“Li Ka-shing”
I felt a tinge of revulsion. Of course, the richest Asian man in the world. Focusing on the truth, I asked, “Why?”
Dad started talking about how he was smart, successful, and a humanitarian. Hmm, humanitarian. Okay, I focused on that. I asked about the humanitarian things Li Ka-shing has done, and what humanitarian acts Dad would like to do. His answers were vague (“help hospitals”); I guess he hasn’t thought much about it. He did want to help family first, though. That was his first priority.
Our conversation ceased for a minute. The ice was broken, though. We started talking about other stuff. We started talking about his dad, how he had started a few companies on his own, but all our wealth was taken by the communists. We talked about growing up in China, how food, clothing, etc. were required not only money, but tickets, so that even if you had money you couldn’t buy enough. At first each person had one bowl of rice; then half; then a quarter; then that quarter was watered down. People were starving to death.
Dad told me about how there was no future. It explains so much about his attitude toward education, toward making money, toward being successful and ensuring the family would survive. He wants the Lai family to thrive because when he was a kid, it was slowly being snuffed out. He wants his children to be educated because people weren’t allowed to become educated (and become a threat to the government). He wants us to make money because all the money his dad made was stolen.
I asked if he felt this situation could happen again. He said there was a possibility, talking about Hitler, Saddam, and Castro. My goal was to get him to realize that people in America only die from being overweight, not starvation, but at least he thought about it.
It was getting late. He wrapped up our talk with some lecturing about how we’re on the same side, etc. I tried to listen without dismissing it as bullshit.
Today my dad was gone. I was left with my mom. She was complaining about her mom, about how she’s always mean and yelling at people and rude. So I told her to tell me some of her good qualities.
Mom started talking about grandma’s hard life, raising eight kids. She told me how her dad drank a lot, gave all his wages to his mom and brother rather than his wife and kids. Grandma was a hard worker all her life, always too quiet and nice to stand up to Grandpa. Now, hardened by life, she’s always speaking her mind.
This was the first time I’ve heard so much about my grandparents. Especially my grandfathers, who had both died before I had a chance to meet them.
More importantly, I got my parents to talk about something other than the mundane. They opened up; I listened.
I realized that I’ve been connecting really well with Jessica, or Wendy, or anyone else I could get together with alone. Applying this technique to my parents worked too. It feels good to be closer to my family.
All this meditation and connection work has given pretty good results. I talked to my cousin Jenny and got her riled up to have dim sum with grandma. I connected with my parents. Harmony is contagious!
I was a TV addict in the past. Coming home from school, the TV would be the first thing on. (Later it was the computer.) At some point I slowed down my TV watching. I don’t know when, but watching movies on TNT meant having commercials every two scenes, literally. That contributed greatly to my disgust of normal TV—commercials.
When I moved to LA I never watched TV. I was too busy meeting girls. When I moved to Seattle we didn’t have a TV either. I realized I didn’t need a TV.
TVs are in many restaurants these days. I noticed that whenever there is a moving image, I tend to zone out, even if I can’t hear what’s going on. I thought it was really disrespectful to those I was eating with, and a symptom of lack of self-control on my part, so I now try to focus on the people at the table rather than the TV. (I learned that the people at the table are zoned out as well.)
Today Mom was washing veggies in the kitchen. I was waiting in front of the TV. I zoned out for a few minutes, watching TV. It was like my soul was being sucked out. I felt my attention being stolen from me, my concentration and focus out of my control. It seems I’ve come to the point of disgust toward TV.
When I turned off the TV, my mom asked why I turned it off. I said it was noisy. She said it was too quiet, that she would be bored. I asked why she was afraid of boredom. She said that old people are afraid of boredom, that grandma’s afraid of boredom, that’s why she moved to the elderly home. I pointed out that that she hadn’t answered my question. She said that everyone’s afraid of boredom, I’m the only weirdo that likes it quiet.
I wasn’t getting anywhere with this conversation and I had a green smoothie to make, so I left it at that.
I have a theory that people are afraid of boredom because they’ll start realizing certain truths about their lives. Truths like, “I’m all alone in this house”, “I have no purpose in life”, “I have no friends”. That’s why boredom must be eliminated with distraction, any distraction, whether it’s work, surfing the web, TV, cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, calling friends, whatever.
This was what I noticed whenever I felt a sense of dread, of questioning my existence, of “depression” you might say. Whenever boredom set in, I would get depressed and think “bad thoughts”. My initial cure was to not get bored. It seemed to work, but eventually all the distractions would run out and I’d be back to square one.
I came to realize that all my distractions were actually distractions from the truth. The truth which I was afraid of, the truth that maybe I didn’t love myself, that I might commit suicide one day. I didn’t want to think of these possibilities. (Notice that I only considered truths that were terribly negative. Another possible truth: I was a negative person.)
I started rejecting all forms of distraction. I still entertained myself, I still hung out with friends, read books, surfed the web. But I no longer did that because I was bored. I hung out with friends to enjoy their company. I read books to learn. I surfed the web for the same reason. If I was bored, I thought. I accepted that I was bored, and contemplated why I lived and what to do with my time.
I see people around me addicted to distraction. TV, hanging out with friends, games, drinking, clubbing, music. Distraction is needed everywhere for people to stop thinking. To keep doing their mundane jobs, to study for degrees because someone said it’d be prestigious, to not face themselves.
I am surrounded by addicts and I don’t know what to do.
Every time someone asks me how long I’m staying in Hong Kong, and why I’m leaving, I always give the same canned answer: people aren’t very friendly, girls aren’t very hot or sexual, it’s hard to eat healthy here, yoga is expensive, I want to snowboard, I want to hit on girls in New York, I want to connect with my brother and cousins in New York.
But recently I’ve realized that these reasons aren’t as strong for me anymore. I’m not interested in meeting new people, I’m not interested in meeting girls, I’ve found reasonable compromises for eating healthy here, yoga would be cheap if I taught (I think), snowboarding has become a lower priority. I still want to connect with my brother and cousins.
The biggest perk Hong Kong has is the Vipassana meditation center. They give two ten-day courses a month, whereas the mid-Atlantic center gives four. Per year.
When I first decided to go to Hong Kong, I thought it was for Wendy, for family, for travel, for getting closer to Thailand for my yoga teacher training. Yet during my meditation retreat, I realized that Vipassana was the true reason for my being here. It quickly overshadowed all other reasons to such an extent. And now, knowing that this center is unique in that it has so many courses, unlike the one I’d be going to in New York, it only seems rational that I stay in Hong Kong and use this opportunity to deepen my practice as much as possible.
Plus Wendy, Jessica, and Mom will be happy, though they’ll probably be competing with meditation for my time.
Today was spent entirely for myself. I got out of bed at 11:30, meditated, drank a green smoothie, and slept again. I’ve been sleeping a lot, to give my body as much rest as it wants to get over this cough. Then I woke up, went to yoga, drank another green smoothie, and now it’s time to sleep again.
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to just be by myself. Usually I have relatives to see, and I have to push meditation and yoga around, stealing time from sleep in order to fit everything in. I don’t know how to keep up my physical and mental health practices and still get anything “productive” done. My mom has complained that ever since I came back from the meditation retreat, all I do is meditate, practice yoga, and sleep. I’ve been trying to eat less carbs and more raw food to reduce food coma, but it doesn’t seem to help much. Maybe it’s because I’m sick.
I don’t know how people with full-time jobs stay healthy or spiritual. It’s been said that busy people are great at time management. (I can’t find the real quote.) Perhaps my lack of responsibilities allows me to unconsciously waste time.
Yet I’ve already been cutting out frivolous activities as much as I could: video games, movies, TV. I have curbed my web surfing habit but I have not eliminated it yet. I really need someone to keep track of everything I do and figure out what I’m doing, so I don’t feel like time is just slipping away.
Today at yoga I talked to a girl who was impressed by my practice. She called me a guru. It’s nice to have someone remind me that my practice has continuously improved.
I practiced connecting deeply with her. I told her to tell me about herself, then asked why she lived. She gave vague answers, but it was nice to see her think. I hope she continues to do so.
I looked for Vipassana publications to submit writing to, to improve my writing and to help more people, but I couldn’t find any. I’ll have to broaden my search to spirituality, meditation, yoga, or general health publications.
I finished all the required reading for my yoga teacher training. Out of all the reading, I feel I learned the least from the anatomy and physiology book. There were too many vocabulary words. It felt like just a giant checklist in book form. I am worried about how prepared I am for the teacher training in this aspect.
My dad keeps telling me to not eat raw veggies because of my cough. Of course, he’s been saying this since before my cough. But now he says that I should definitely not eat raw, since I’m sick. I fail to see his logic.
All I see is a person who feels uncomfortable about my decision to not eat meat because it is contrary to his own life decision. In a black and white world, one of us would be right. So my dad must prove me wrong, or else he’d be wrong. I don’t actually believe he has tried to understand my reasoning.
But why do I care? Why is it important to me for him to accept my vegetarianism? Am I thinking in black-and-white terms as well? Am I seeking his approval to validate my own choices?
Or am I just intolerant of his unsolicited advice? Twice today I responded sarcastically to his fatherly advice.
Once again, this is all about me. My interpretation of events, my reaction, my emotional response. Without my dad being here, I wouldn’t see my own insecurities and outbursts. Having him here is a great opportunity to learn about myself and improve my equanimity.
I told Jessica that meditation is at the top of my priority list, and that meeting girls has been pushed off the list. This alarmed her, and she said that I should keep meeting girls on my priorities, that if I didn’t then I might grow old, alone, having no one to help me physically or emotionally when I am unable to help myself. I told her that I accepted that risk, that I am perfectly content to grow old, alone, completely helpless. In the meantime, having real peace of mind was more important to me.
She reasserted herself repeatedly, under the impression that she wasn’t communicating properly the real risks involved. Each time I took a hard look at her position, considered that perhaps she’s right, that I’d regret being single when it’s too late. But each time I came to the same conclusion, that I would be fine. Been there, done that.
It became apparent that she was worried about these risks, that it frightened her that I wasn’t scared, that I might be ignorant until it’s too late.
I didn’t mind her having a different opinion from me, but she insisted on changing mine. I repeatedly told her that I understood her position, but I disagreed. Eventually we didn’t have much to say to each other, I believe because her mind was still brewing over why I didn’t see the looming danger she saw.
I think there should be a better way of handling this situation. Sure, we didn’t argue, and there were no bad feelings between us. But short of convincing her of my position, which was impossible because “why oh why would anyone want to die alone?” completely clouded her judgment.
I’ve had to deal with projection all my life. In the past, I took people’s projections onto me personally, thinking there was something wrong with my life, etc. Then I started defending my own position, feeling good when I won, feeling down when I lost. Recently I’ve come to see others’ attempts to convince me as projections of their own issues. It’s most obvious when the other person insists on changing my opinion, while I am remaining calm.
In my experience, someone who is emotionally charged is unsure. Without real confidence backing their assertion, they use emotional fury to convince the rest of the world, to prove to themselves that they are right. While it doesn’t prove that they are wrong, it is an indication that they are hiding insecurity.
This is why I find it so important to maintain my own cool. It allows me to make rational decisions and to see through others’ irrational assertions.
Now to learn how to end these discussions in harmony.
My dad made plans to visit my grandparents’ grave in the morning, telling me just last night. Um, okay.
This morning he woke me up, in his antsy, impatient manner, the way he gets when there’s something he really wants but can’t wait to get. This is in sharp contrast to his usual “I don’t give a shit about the world except for the stock market” attitude.
While I was doing my usual routine to wake up, reading blogs on my iPhone, he asked me, “Are you going or not?” I sarcastically replied, “No.” His demeanor dropped for a split second, like it used to do when he was about to beat the shit out of me. But these days he doesn’t do that. Nonetheless, that split second reminded me that he’s still my dad, the man who holds respect in the utmost importance. The man who yelled at me when I was a kid, because I jokingly threw a penny at him and told him to pick it up himself.
No, this man, despite him chilling out in his old age, still demands respect from his son.
So I find it surprising that I keep trying to trigger him. I know exactly when he’s antsy and wants something. So I don’t give it to him. I hem and haw. I don’t understand why I want to antagonize the man who brought me up.
Maybe because he’s always demanded everything, beating me to get it if necessary. So now that he doesn’t do it, I am abusing him back my own way.
I wrote the above this morning, still fuming. Spending the day with him, seeing him cry at grandma’s grave, gave me what I needed to be compassionate toward my dad. I’m glad I can continue to work on my issues with my dad.
This morning my mom and dad got into an argument. My mom was telling my dad the “correct” way to use the water heater, and every attempt my dad gave at explaining himself, including a new discovery he made, was talked over by my mom. Eventually my dad just started telling her to shut up. The conversation was over.
I fumed over this. I felt my dad’s rudeness was unjustified, that he shouldn’t have told her to shut up. A few times I walked up to my dad, standing outside his field of vision, contemplating telling him to apologize. All the while I was observing my own body, my own sensations, trying to maintain equanimity.
Eventually I decided not to do it. There’s no point in telling my dad to apologize to my mom in front of my mom, while the tension was still in the air and I was obviously emotional. I let things slide for now, opting to talk man-to-man later if necessary.
After dim sum with grandma, which my dad didn’t attend, Mom and I got back. Dad was asleep, so I woke him up. My fury had subsided, and I playfully woke him up to eat. My mom made a comment about the argument, but the storm had passed.
After dim sum my parents went to my uncle’s place. I didn’t go because I had plans with my cousin Jenny, who had just arrived from NY. I called her, expecting to wake her up, but she was already out and running errands. When I asked when we were hanging out, she conferred with someone she was with, saying, “Raymond wants to hang out.” Some talk occurred, and she told me she was running errands and had to get her hair done. She’ll call me back after. I agreed.
I felt jealous and insignificant. It reminded me of the way we used to hang out in junior high school, when she had a ton of friends and I had to fight for her attention. Despite us having made plans, she was blowing me off to hang out with who-knows.
Again I calmed down, collected myself, and observed the situation objectively. Well, she has someone with her. That’s okay. And she has to run errands. I’ve been in that situation before, having briefly landed in a new place with a ton of things to do and not enough time. We didn’t specify an exact time. I want to sleep anyway, to give my body some rest to recuperate from this cough. So I slept.
I woke up about four or five hours later. Still no call. I ran some of my own errands, reading, meditating. It’s now been over six hours since we talked. I felt that sense of insignificance again. “Perhaps she’s still cutting her hair,” I thought. I called to find out.
She confirmed my suspicion. Well, the optimistic suspicion, anyway. I asked if we were still hanging out. Again, she conferred with the mystery party, saying, “Raymond wants to hang out.” I thought, “She’s making it sound like I am desperate to hang out,” feeding my insecurity. She said let’s have dinner tomorrow night. I checked my schedule, agreed, and we hung up.
This second call was calmer. Despite the second rejection, I knew I had other things to do. Now my time was freed up.
Looking from her perspective, I saw a person who wanted to please everyone. She wanted to hang out, otherwise she wouldn’t have contacted me in the first place. But she was already hanging out with people and had been overbooked. Instead of straight up telling me, she deferred responsibility of the rejection to her unseen friends.
Rather than sensing malice on her part, I now sense struggle. All this compassion training seems to be helping.
In both these cases, I felt my past emotional habits coming up. Yet I handled them in a completely different way. Rather than letting the emotions take over or suppressing them, I observed the way the emotions felt. Given a choice of acting or not, I chose to err on the side of not acting, though it was more a choice of observation than binding. Then, given time, the negative emotions came to pass, and compassion surfaced.
While I was at the meditation retreat, all I wanted to do was meditate every day for the rest of my life. One of the reason I came back to the “real world” was because I needed to apply everything I learned in everyday life. Meditating in a cave every day for the rest of my life would surely be peaceful. The real challenge lay in maintaining grace under fire—coming face-to-face with the difficulties of mainstream life and overcoming them, rather than avoiding.
Today I spent most of the day with Jessica. As usual, it was a great experience listening to her, sharing my own experiences, etc. I see in Jessica what I see in myself: I want to be immune to social pressure. I want it so badly that I believe it. Yet I see evidence that I still care what people think. I still feel responsible for others’ feelings. I hope one day she sees this too, and resolves it however it gets resolved.
Today Steve Jobs died. I woke up, browsed my mail, and checked Daring Fireball with a shock. I was saddened. My next thought was a memory of last night’s dinner, when Jessica asked me how I felt, surrounded by so many elders, laughing, talking, joking. I told her I felt that this is a perfect moment to enjoy. So it is with Steve Jobs. He has passed, his legacy remains and will continue to grow without him. Let us enjoy everything we have in the present moment, lest it pass unnoticed.
It’s funny, last night as my mom was playing mahjong I was talking to Jessica. I told Jessica how I’ve started playing mahjong without sorting my tiles so precisely, to get used to viewing them in a more haphazard manner. Today my mom told me it wasn’t a good idea, and that that’s probably why I lost money last night. I didn’t realize my mom had been eavesdropping. I appreciate that my mom cares.
I’ve been asking people, “Why do you live?” Jessica was one of them. She told me the story of how she received it, scratched her head, didn’t know if I was joking or not, nor the severity of the question. She then forwarded it to a bunch of her friends, who pondered the same thing.
I’m glad this experiment worked better than expected. Who knows, maybe those few people forwarded it to another ten people each, who kept forwarding it. A virus is born!
For those whom I haven’t told, “Why do you live?” was asked not for my sake, but for the sake of the recipient. The answer I receive isn’t so important as the process the recipient goes through trying to come up with an answer. It’s the process, not the result. I want to snap people out of their daily routines and reflect whether their life is going the way they want it, or if they are just in a mindless march toward death.
We are, after all, dying one minute at a time.
I told Jessica about my master plan, to write an all-out uncensored autobiography, with which others can view my progress and hopefully be inspired to do the same. Or maybe talk to me and get the inspiration that way.
She asked whom I was working on. I answered, “You.” Duh. And, of course, W, mom, dad, my brother. Basically everyone I come into contact with. I am here to practice an enlightened life and spread it like the plague.
I used to joke around that if God didn’t want us to eat animals, he wouldn’t have made them so tasty. As I continue my Vipassana meditation and read Ghandi’s autobiography, I realize more and more how practicing non-violence toward other beings, including being vegetarian, is an act of compassion. It’s more for me than for the animals who are already dead.
As a human, as ruler of this planet, as a being blessed with reason, logic, and intellect, I have the privilege of making wiser choices. Instead of abusing my privileges by consuming those whom failed to defend themselves, I can choose to show compassion toward them and not eat their flesh.
It is the same choice I make when I shoo a mosquito out of my room rather than slapping it. It is the same choice I make when I acknowledge the other person’s point of view when they are yelling in my face.
I choose to be compassionate toward all beings, no matter how yummy they are.
Today I went to yoga. Still working on my drop-backs, but I can feel that they’re improving every day. It’s nice having Lily there. I’ve been working with her the longest since I’ve been in Hong Kong. I don’t know if she’s the best teacher for me, but I feel most comfortable getting adjusted by her.
I got two girls’ e-mails today. It’s nice to expand my social circle a little, I hope I have time to hang out with them.
I had dim sum with my grandma, then walked home with my mom. I wanted to take the tram, because my leg was feeling tired. But she wanted to walk, so I figure it’d be good for her to get exercise and the extra exercise probably could help my leg as well.
I passed out after we got home, around noon. I woke up around 5 pm. It felt good to let my body rest.
When I woke up I worked on my site a bit more. I’ve reenabled the navigation stuff, which I disabled for my digital sabbatical.
I’m surprised that my digital sabbatical took a few months. Though I didn’t totally disconnect, I pretty much avoided having an online presence, choosing to only use the internet to contact people for face-to-face meetings, or calling people long distance. Basically, using the internet to enhance my offline contacts.
I’ve come to the conclusion that relationships have a certain level of intimacy, depending on the communication method. I see it as a ladder, where physical, face-to-face communication is at the top, followed by video chat, voice, e-mail, text, and at the bottom is Facebook stalking.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with each level, I think it’s just a representation of the average intimacy level. I think many people, including myself in the past, have used Facebook stalking as an easy way to feel connected to people. I would read a person’s wall and feel like I’ve connected with the person. But that’s not nearly as connected as having a cup of tea with the person, or having sex with them.
I see relationships as going up, going down, or maintaining the level of intimacy. I’d like to improve my intimacy with everybody by slowly going up the ladder where possible. So instead of just IMing my brother, I prefer to call him, to hear his voice, to speak directly into his brain. I want to increase our intimacy rather than just have slow, superficial conversations with our fingers.
In the past, there were relationships where I’d rather keep at bay, so I would not pick up the phone and stick to whatever crappy conversation I could, so I didn’t have to commit to not hanging up on the person. I try not to be so passive-aggressive with my relationships now.
It’s funny, when I started writing, I had writer’s block. So I just wrote about my day. One thing led to another, and now I have a piece I’m proud of.
When the alarm rang at 6 am, I realized it was Monday and that there was yoga at night. I wisely skipped morning yoga and opted for more sleep instead. On a roll, I even skipped dim sum with grandma, sleeping until 10 am.
I woke up feeling great! Peaceful, too. I meditated a full hour, which went smoothly. It was as though the turmoil of the past week had passed, and now I was back to being the normal meditation junkie.
Of course, I still continued working on my site as soon as I got out of it.
I’ve decided to reuse my existing blog. Tumblr was not reliable enough, and there would be work needed to get backups, etc. I’ll have to enhance the code to make inputting easier and write a bunch of stuff to connect to other sites. All in due time.
Today I looked at my code for the first time in months. I added functionality to take output from Scrivener and generate a post from it. My tolerance for manual labor has gone down tremendously; computers should automate anything it can, I have limited time as it is. Let me focus on what’s really needed to be done in the world.
Ideally there’d be an option in Scrivener where I can directly publish from it by running some Applescript thing. I don’t know a thing about Applescript, though, so I guess I’ll have to nerd it out a little more. I hear Automator is awesome for what I’m trying to do.
Along the same lines of being a super lazy human, I have been checking out TextExpander. This seems pretty useful, especially for the iPhone.
My mom bought me an eye mask today. I don’t like it when people get me stuff. I’m put in the position where I have to disappoint them by saying I don’t need it, or lie and say thanks. As I type this, I realize that it’s a pretty negative response. Let’s redo this, now with compassion: I love it when people surprise me with gifts! I never know what I can use, and the surprise isn’t just in the material item, but in the fact that they care enough about me to get something for me. Let’s see how I can use my eye mask tonight! I love my mom!
Okay, it’s getting late. Time to meditate and sleep, so I can write some more tomorrow!
Every time someone pisses me off, it is an opportunity to learn. Case in point: I was upset at the mess my dad made since he came to Hong Kong. Unwashed utensils, used tea leaves everywhere. But I ignored it and made my green smoothie. After finishing it, as I was washing the blender, he said, “Raymond, please!” and tried to pass me his dirty dishes from lunch.
My first reaction was, “What the fuck? Do your own dishes!” In my head, anyway. But then I caught myself. I realized I could take this opportunity to develop compassion. He did raise me after all. And having him trigger me like that is the perfect way for me to learn more about myself and overcome my knee-jerk reactions.
A friend once described how he smiled and thanked a girl for triggering him. I get it now.