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As you reflect on love today, I wanted to share a beautiful story.
It’s from Brennan Manning’s book entitled, “Ragamuffin Gospel.”
“I stand by the bed where a young woman lies, her face postoperative, her mouth twisted in palsy, somewhat clownish. A tiny twig of the facial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth, had been severed.
She will be this way from now on. I had followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh; nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek, I had to cut the little nerve.
Her young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed and together they seem to dwell in the evening lamplight, isolated from me, the moment is a private one. Who are they, I ask myself? He and this wry mouth I have made, who gaze at each other so generously, so lovingly.
The young woman speaks. ”Will my mouth always be like this?’ she asks. “Yes, I say, it will. It is because the nerve was cut.”
She nods and is silent. But the young man smiles. “I like it,” he says, “It’s kind of cute.”
All at once I know who he is. I understand and I lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with a God moment.
Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate to hers, to show her that their kiss still works.”
“Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Tis the good reader that makes the good book; in every book he finds passages which seem confidences or asides hidden from all else and unmistakably meant for his ear; the profit of books is according to the sensibility of the reader; the profoundest thought or passion sleeps as in a mine, until it is discovered by an equal mind and heart.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Perseverance is more than endurance. It is endurance combined with absolute assurance and certainty that what we are looking for is going to happen…. If our hopes seem to be experiencing disappointment right now, it simply means that they are being purified.” – Oswald Chambers
“After the Lord resurrects you, He makes you fruitful. He brings others into your life. He brings someone to whom He wishes to commute divine love…. The love you will now express is simply the movement of the resurrected life within you.” – Madame Jeanne Guyon
This year, I plan to explore more mystics like Guyon whose writings have for more than 300 years captivated and instructed readers with her striking timeless insights.
“Silence is so important. Even when you cannot find total silence, you might try letting others take the lead in conversations. There is no better way to quench the natural strength of the old nature than by silencing it.” – Fenelon
In this poem, Donne speaks of two souls, true soulmates, so intertwined. Wow. Breathtaking.
Now back to my project and the looming deadline!
A Valediction Forbidding Mourning
AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
“Now his breath goes,” and some say, “No.”
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
‘Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of th’ earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers’ love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, ’cause it doth remove
The thing which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix’d foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th’ other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
Ah poetry… invigorating poetry makes my spirit jump up within me. I woke up this morning and suddenly had to get my poetry fix. It’s the beginnings of a revival of creativity in my busy life. I’m so looking forward to painting and more poetry, creative writing and photography. In a few weeks after I get a major project done, I’ll even end my musical constipation and actually pick up an instrument again. O Joy!
A few poems that I found arresting in my readings today:
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed:
And love is fire. And when I say at need
I love thee . . . mark! . . . I love thee—in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine. There’s nothing low
In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature’s.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Random pic: With lil' Tony at the Sichuan earthquake epicenter in 2008. He was traumatized by the quake and kept throwing rocks at people, the ground. Tony wouldn't let anyone hold him until I picked him up.
Jae at the Forbidden City in Beijing
My brother Jae is a filmmaker, screenwriter, beats producer, music aficionado, wine expert and blogger.
He’s also my creative sounding board and best friend.
Look up his cheeky blog. He has written a screenplay on the same theme:
My musician friend Austin Lee calls Jae’s blog “genius in written form”.
One of my favorite posts: http://www.thedoucheguide.com/2009/08/douchebag-of-week-1.html The Kanye West entry is funny too.
I’m subconsciously dreaming of escaping to paradise, the Tiger Leaping Gorge. Inches behind me is a scary cliff. It’s about 3,000 meters to the river bottom!
What if perfectionism was listed officially as an infectious disease by medical practitioners worldwide?
Would we have a pandemic on our hands? That mostly affects overachieving Asians? What is the cure?
It’s easy to treat symptoms of perfectionism, ie procrastination, yet the root of the ailment would still be a thorn in the side.
As a procrastination prevention method, during my focused time of writing the book on ‘Comfort women’, I’ll be working on other projects to revitalize the actual hours spent on writing. If I have only writing to look forward to, that may burn me out.
On the side, I will be studying my heart out (Mandarin) and exercising (I want Chris Evert’s arms), getting facials (it’s super dry in Beijing) and massages (to keep my neck muscles supple from all that computer work) and spending regular weekly times with friends who restore my soul.
Oh, I almost forgot! I’m picking up guitar again!
I have also enlisted the help of friends who are keeping me accountable with my schedule and the writing project. Thank you A & W!
Lately, I’ve had some good revelations about the extent of my perfectionistic tendencies in the past. At one point, I blocked all effort in my Mandarin study because I could not be ‘perfect’ at it right away. Any kind of success in career or extracurricular work had become a source of affirmation and identity. I had foolishly weighed my self-worth based on my performance and based on my career.
This is the North American lie and an all too pervasive part of our work culture. You are what you do. Whenever you meet anyone new, inevitably the question comes up about what line of work you’re in or if you have a business card. Our business cards have become our identity cards.
This tendency applies to my writing now and I have to watch myself. I fear that I will fail at something and not get it right… because I had based my identity on what I do – my job and accomplishments – I did not allow myself to make mistakes or do less than second best. Fear is the root of perfectionism. Fear of failure, fear of not being loved. The list goes on.
This is not too surprising for an Asian Canadian. Our Asian cultural values are based on performance first. “Why did you get 86 % on math? Why not 100%?” Thanks a lot Confucius.
Yes we need to strive for excellence, but if it’s defining who you are, then re-examination of values, identity are a must.
Oh, did I mention that writing is painful at times? When you’re not in the flow, it’s plain self-torture. A journalist from the Washington Post once said at a writer’s conference in Seattle in 2000 that “anyone who says that writing is not painful is totally lying.” I’ll have to agree.
Zhongdian, China: We rode our bikes on the winding mountain road. Breathing itself was challenging in the high altitude of 3,200 meters or 10,200 feet.
I desire to be content with being and not get caught up in the gerbil wheel of doing. Perhaps that is the antidote. To have a deep spirituality that allows one to focus on compassion, giving to others, excellent moral character and ethics.
I have resolved to work towards a deeper foundation in my faith and finding identity in being as my goals, instead of chasing after bigger career aspirations. When you know who you are, the rest will flow out of that inner peace. And everything else is icing on the cake. Bon appetit!
Yunnan province is my all time favorite place on earth.
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