Love Your Enemies

So why is it hard to love our enemies if we believe we are all sinners?

We are commanded to love our enemies not only because we are given love and therefore are in a position to give, but also because we all are created in his image and share the fallen nature of man.  Would it be hard to love one of our own? To most people, that is the most natural thing to do and it is something we should do.  

To say we as Christians, love our enemies, does not make us morally superior.  When we truly know, cognitively and emotionally, that we are NOT morally superior, loving our enemies will become as natural as breathing. 

Giving Thanks Over Breakfast Oatmeal

In my heart, she is my number one patient.  Number One doesn't mean she is the best in any way.  Number One says more about how I feel about her than how good she is as a patient, in terms of being punctual and committed to therapy.

I realize time and again I respect her very much.  I guess when I say she is number one, I mean she is stronger than me if there is such a thing as comparative degree of mental strength.

She looked at the hot bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee one morning, and pronounced her life good.  She gave thanks.

And she has lived with schizophrenia for more than twenty years.

Her family is like anyone else's: dysfunctional.  There had been domestic violence that led to her parents' divorce.  There had been parenting in all the "wrong" ways.  There had been family history of mental illness.  There had been favoritism for boys.  There had been racial discrimination.  There had been financial hardship.  There had been social isolation.  There had been hospitalization in a psychiatric hospital.  There had been living with stigma of being mentally ill, both from the public view and her own.

Yet, she finds good moments in her life when she feels content and happy.  She takes delight in the small progress she has noticed about her mind, and pride shines in her voice.

She is not in anyway even close to being "normal." Medication is indispensable, and social skills are still lacking for her to form deep relationships and find a job and keep it.  Severely violated psychological boundary leaves her with constant fear in her interaction with family members and anyone who tries to be close to her.  Including me.

Yet, she counts her blessings.

Cooking and doing the mundane daily chores used to take all her mental energy and left her high strung.  She can now plan her time a week ahead of time and routine has set in and she finds herself on auto pilot most of the time, like most people, when she cooks and cleans.  Easy.  She even has the mental capacity for future planning and became curious about the purpose of her life.  She wants to know God's plan for her.  She wants a bigger life; one that includes more people and more activities, and, more meaning than just taking care of her father and keeps a house clean.

I thanked God with her and for her.  

After the session, I walked out of the office and the December California sun greeted me.  I thought about how I would give thanks when I felt the warm water coming out of the shower head each morning.  For her, it's a bowl of oatmeal.  We are, after all, more similar than different, because we all are the object of his love.

"He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Matt. 6:45.

In Him All Things Are Possible

In Him all things are possible... but I can't fly.

In Him all things are possible... but I need sleep.

In Him all things are possible... but I can't lift more than my own body weight.  ( Do you think if I go to the gym more and work harder and maybe I can?)

In Him all things are possible... but I need food. (One day is the most I can do without food.  But maybe if I discipline and practice more, I can go... maybe two days? and eventually three, four, five days? How about 40 days, like Jesus?)

In Him all things are possible... but my memory is failing me as I age.  Maybe if I find the right kind of supplement, I will not be as forgetful?  Maybe in my spare time if I review things more diligently and I will remember more?  

In Him all things are possible... but no matter how hard I learn, I speak with accent! It has been more than 40 years since I first learned ABC's, jeeze, maybe I need to speak more English; even more!

In Him all things are possible... but I can't forget some things...

In Him all things are possible... but I get angry sometimes. Still!

In Him all things are possible... but sometimes I fall asleep during prayers and it's embarrassing.  Maybe if I try to open my eyes more?

In Him all things are possible... but I feel sad to see Beau get old no matter how hard I tell myself all dogs go to heaven. 

In Him all things are possible... but I die. I pray I get to see his second coming before I die.  Otherwise, I guess I will die.

I thought these thoughts when I woke up at 2:30 last night, (or this morning)  And I thanked Him, because in Him all things are possible, as long as I remain His creation.

捍衛時間

過去的兩個星期每週末都有事. 這星期要忙到星期六的中午才得休息. 我決定要捍衛週末的時間, 即使是天王老爺有請我也不去!

別以為我一週工作八十小時才把自己搞成這樣.  我老早已決定不富有沒關係, 但我要做自由的人. 我的工作時數其實讓很多人羨慕, 但是她們如果知道我賺多少錢, 也許就有另外的想法了. 即便如此,  我一不小心, 也會讓時間表爬滿了事項, 感覺好像割地賠款, 時間一塊一塊地拱手讓人, 自己變成一無所有. 有時人會對我說, “妳真難找,  一定很忙."   語氣中充滿諒解甚至是恭維, 我卻直想歎氣. 我怕忙的感覺, 說我忙就像是提醒我我的失敗.  

每個人多忙才受不了的極限不一樣. 我知道我自己. 超過極限的時候,  只想奪門而逃,  就像今天離開公司的時候一樣.  

逃回家,  坐在書桌前發了一會兒呆,  這才覺得真正的我慢慢的還原. 本來被壓縮的喘不過氣, 裡頭盡是瘴氣. 思想也都是短路的, 脾氣是急燥的,  臉上也笑不出來. 想像力盡失, 對人也無耐心.  那時的我是自己最不喜歡的我. 

要能掌握這個平衡點很不容易,  但是隨著年歲漸長, 對自己更加的了解, 這個點好像也越來越不客氣, 稍微接近它就呱呱大叫, 今天奪門而出的時候就是覺得再不走,  整個辦公室都會聽到它的抗議!

回家已經快八個小時. 除了兩頓飯, 啥也沒做. 和貓咪講講話, 看看牠們梳理彼此的毛衣, 廚房書房走來走去,  點個香香的蠟燭自我陶醉一番, 如此而已. 我想再過一下下, 我就能像從郵寄包裹中打開的內容, 在被壓縮變形之後, 解去繩子膠帶, 慢慢地吸入空氣, 就伸展開來了. 只是那也就到了要睡覺的時候,   然後明天又來了. 

這個週末絕對不許任何人搶走我的時間!

Give Thanks

I am so grateful to be working with a group of like-minded people at Chinese Outreach.

All these years, they have been wanting me to join them but I had always been a volunteer only and was quite hesitant to involve more.  It just didn't feel right at the time.  But this time, after much praying and conversation with myself and JP, I said yes.  And with each day go by, I feel more and more a sense of belonging.  

The peak of that feeling was yesterday when I was introduced to Huang, the famous director/producer originally from Taiwan.  J told me I would like him even before she brought him to the office.  She was right.  I met with him for almost 4 hours and it was already dark when I left the office.  I don't think I have ever been around anyone and felt that kind of freedom to be myself.  I sensed that he was totally not afraid of people judging him and in him I saw God's creation.  We are uniquely and mysteriously and wonderfully and fearfully made.  Each one with our own miniature reflection of who our maker is, if I may say so without thinking too much if this is theologically correct.  And I was quite delighted in the way He made me, and acutely felt the appreciation, both from Him and from myself, only yesterday.  I don't think this is the same as confidence or self esteem.  This is about knowing your "position" in life according to His plan.  Like an infantry soldier, when lined up for roll call, or for battles, you feel "right" only if you are where you are assigned to be.  You will function the best, and you will work with others as a team the best, and you will find the most satisfaction out of living, when you are there.  Only I can take this spot.  I was made to stand here.  

It almost felt like coming out of the closet.  I remembered how Dad named me 夢, when J wrote my name on a piece of paper for Huang to see.  I don't know when this dream would finally come true, who would be in it and what it would be like, but yesterday I felt the anticipation.

All I can say is, I want to give thanks.

Even the Setting Sun...

I was driving home and the sun was setting at the far end of the road.  I tried to look to the right and left to avoid the blinding rays.  I noticed the cars around me also slowed down because the setting sun made it almost impossible to see what's coming up in front of you.  I was going to drop off some papers en route home at the escrow office and couldn't see the street address at all.  It took me two tries and some walking back to find the office because I was totally going blind and had to just guess if I was on the right block.  Once I got out of the car, I still couldn't see because I saw black dots in front of me and if you ever tried to look straight at the sun, you would know how that was.

I thought about Jesus being THE sun.  Even the setting sun for a brief five minutes had such blinding effect on me, I cannot imagine how I would be when I face the real Sun, except the fact that He would be a benevolent Sun and he promised to bless, and not harm, me.

When I left the escrow company, the sun had completely set already and darkness had fallen.  I knew all in all that even as I couldn't see him now, for sure in the morning his will be the first light that awakens me.  And I either will find myself on this side, or on the other side of the world and I welcome the idea of both.

75th Bach Festival

Tomorrow is the concert.  This year the choral finale is sung by us again, a group of auditioned amateurs, and we will be singing Bach's Mass in B minor.

This morning everybody came for the dress rehearsal.  Everybody means soloists too.  

I had such a great time!! I love Bach and singing with a group of good musicians is the greatest pleasure.  I am in the first row of the 50-person choir and I can see the backs of the flutists, oboists, and bassoonists.  But what I really see is music, and not the shapes of their backs.  As their bodies move with the music, I feel so happy to be part of it.  I once read that it may be hard for musicians to believe they need God because in music you feel oneness with this "Something" bigger than you, and many musicians have tasted this worldly best version of feeling whole, they  think that IS the best, not knowing the best anyone can encounter in great music is only the second best, comparing to what God has promised as being one with Him.  But for this morning, I felt I was in heaven. 

When the organ helped build the Dona Nobis Pacem, I thought I was gone.  I felt like I had come out of the physical limitation of my body and I became shapeless.  This experience of abandonment delighted me greatly.  It fed me emotionally.  And it rained today.  I wanted to kneel down to give thanks.  Only a beautiful God can create beautiful things like Bach's music and rain and autumn leaves.

This is the first rain for Yoko and Marb.  They sat by the screen door side by side and lost themselves in the pitter-patter of rain.  I watched them watching rain, and whatever was on TV suddenly lost all it's power.  I turned off the TV and joined them.

Bach. Rain.  Today is a good day.

Spontaneous Protest

A client heard about the concept of spontaneous protest in a psychology class.  It is supposed to be a common phenomenon,  that when people feel violated, annoyed, mistreated, etc., they protest.  The idea of it being spontaneous describes a sense of authorship of own feelings and the right to express them.  She finds that lacking in herself; that she would protest, but not in a spontaneous manner.  Given time, the initial desire to protest may subside and thus not have a voice anymore, or it may amount to rage and she would explode.  Neither is desired by this client. 

Why is it difficult for some people and not others, to spontaneously protest? How does any parent raise a child who feels the right to spontaneously voice her protest and not let it escalate to more than annoyance, and in the process help others understand her better?

I was in the kitchen, heating up food for myself.  I wanted to share my food with him, but right away was concerned if my good intention would not be received well.  I imagined being rejected, hearing  "Don't bother me.  I am busy with my things." and "I don't like what you are offering me." And I hesitated and lost the spontaneity of hospitality.

I wonder if as a child,  I was greeted with welcoming arms and my childish way of expressing love was not only understood, but accepted time and again, would that moment of hesitation still be there?  Would I then have grown up, believing that, most often than not, I was welcomed, and thus not feel ashamed of revealing what is deeply and truly myself? In this case, that I do have a wish to share and I can own up to that desire and not be afraid of how I would be received?

A simple gesture to dismiss an innocent child's expression of love and affection, if repeated enough times, I believe, will send a message to the child that she is not important and she should just keep things to herself.  When this child becomes an adult, this belief about the self will very much keep her from voicing her needs, let alone protest, in a spontaneous way, and in turn will make her feel unloved.

As adults, we are no longer parented by imperfect people, but have taken over the responsibility to, in a way, work out our own salvation.  In my client's case, with the awareness of what is lacking in her and what is more desirable for her, comes the responsibility to "get" it for herself. No more parents to depend on.  It almost feels like what she needs is a leap of faith, to try a new behavior, against the backdrop of opposite emotional experience  It's like asking a person who had experienced the horror of drowning to trust water will float him.  Other than tremendous amount of courage, we will need loving friends to say to her, "Come on, put your feet in the water.  It will not drown you because I am not letting that happen to you."  

I sometimes wonder, is the "growth" worth the hassle and heartbreak, if you don't find enough good people around you to keep you safe.  What if you dive in again and you drown again? I guess this is a personal decision we all have to make. 

Blame or Genuine Concern

"Why are you still with him??" can be taken at least two ways.

I saw a woman yesterday (All names and details have been altered to protect the identies of the clients mentioned in my blog. )who had been repeated cheated on by her boyfriend.  He would not tell her the truth about his "other" social life, but when he was with her, he treated her so nicely that she felt loved and she put up with the repeated offense.

"Why are you still with him?" I asked, in an attempt to help her see her own doing, and hopefully to expose her unconscious motives to herself.  Maybe with her answering this question for herself, she would have an aha moment.

She looked at me, hurt.

Her look told me she felt blamed.  Maybe what she heard was... "Why are you still with him!!" "How could you be so blind!!"  and all the question marks would sound like exclamation marks!!

I guess I was too eager to help her, still.  Without rapport, and without deep understanding of her and her situation, and without tone of voice which conveys concern, questions CAN be taken as blame.

How Much Getting Used to Before You Get Used to

"Get used to it...Get used to it... Get used to it...!!"

How much do we need to tell ourselves this before we finally don't feel much?

A child yearns for his parents to spend more time with him but is also old enough to know parents need to work long hours.  He tells himself, "Get used to this..."  When he comes to the therapist's office and is asked this question, "so how do you feel when you spend most of your time alone at home?" He says, "I am used to it." with a shrug.  I wonder how many times he must have said this to himself  before he finally doesn't feel the pain anymore?

A woman comes in to complain being cheated by her boyfriend over and over again, and she said to herself, "He is just like this and he promised me not to lie to me again.  I need to get used to this and prove to him my unconditional love for him." When asked how she feels about being lied to and found out later, she said, "I am used to this." with tears in her eyes.  I wonder how many times she must have said this to herself so she can continue to be with him.

A mother comes to talk about how her family doesn't respect her.  She works outside the home and she still needs to do almost all of the house chores and cooking.  She looks exhausted and old for her age.  I asked how she felt about being treated this way by the ones she loved.  She said, "I am used to it." but she looked down and her tone diminished.  I said to myself, she must have said this to herself a lot... get used to it... get used to it... they are just like this.  

When we say we are used to something, there usually has been a time when we were not used to it.  We felt powerless to change the situation but we can't, as children, or we don't want to, as adult, leave either.  So we tell ourselves to get used to it.  Eventually we don't feel anything anymore.  Our hearts become hardened.  We think this is a way out, but we fail to notice that when our heart hardens, we die a little.  Joy is also harder to find as our capacity to feel life decreases.  We train ourselves to get used to pain, we lose life along the way.

Pain is not something to get used to.  Pain reminds us of our limitation as the created.  Pain reminds us of the fact that we live in a fallen world.  Pain reminds us that we have gone astray.  Pain reminds us there are more important thing in life than avoidance of pain. Pain pushes us to God.  Pain reveals how demanding we are.  Pain reminds us He works in mysterious ways.  Pain reminds us we are alive.

Pain is better than getting used to if we want to grow.  Pain humbles us; getting used to makes us think we are invincible.

零食和油漆

我去買看電視時要吃的零食.

遍尋不著我熟悉的梅子.  問老闆娘.  她說, "不要每次都吃一樣的.  要換著吃." 說著說著就給我試吃一種鮮綠色的甚麼東西. 我盛情難卻, 卻對泡在水裡那一顆顆綠色的東西懷有戒心. 勉強作一個有禮貌的中國人,  不但接過來,  還把它給吃了.  我想再努力一次, "我以前買的那種呢? 我喜歡..." 老闆娘也不放棄,  不但不回答我,   而且又給了我另外一種梅子吃.  我正在考慮該如何是好的時候, 老闆娘已經拿起帶子問我要買多少了.  好在我還喜歡這新的零食, 所以也就算了. 

離開的時候我想到另一次類似的經驗.

那是我要重新裝修廚房的時候.  選好了油漆的顏色, 正等工頭來交代.

"這是誰選的顏色!!??" 他一副驚訝又不同意的樣子.

"我選的." 我從實招來.

"沒有人用這種顏色的啦!! 妳換一種,  明天我再來. ..還是你要我替妳選?" 他用頗有權威的語氣告訴我, 深怕我年幼無知做錯決定.

"但是我喜歡這個顏色." 我還要辯白,   但心裡在說, "你有沒有搞錯! 到底是誰的廚房!"

"這個顏色不好看!! 還是換一個吧..." 他也不放棄要說服我.

" 我就要這個顏色. "  我心想, 豈有此理! 不可退讓!

 

"好吧... 漆上去就很難改囉..." 臨走他還要將我一軍.

"不改. " 我努力維持君子風度.

事隔多年,  我有時還退一步看看廚房的顏色. 我是對的.  我就是喜歡這個顏色! 

零食店的老闆娘和油漆工都是為我好, 而把他們認為好的東西要硬塞給我. 有的時候我可以考慮,   也許會放棄自己的想法意見來接受他們的好意.  但是也有的時候我要堅持己見, 因為畢竟我的生活是我的, 我有權為自己做決定, 我也必須為自己做決定.  我越是清楚自己是誰,  喜歡甚麼不喜歡甚麼,  想甚麼不想甚麼,  我就越能堅持自己而不怕別人的挑戰和質疑.  

反過來如果我們是那個有好主意要給別人的人, 我們也要學會尊重別人的選擇權利, 懂得退一步, 讓所關心的人做自己的決定.  有得時候在我們眼裡他們做的決定是錯的,  但是誰人不是從錯誤中學習人生中重要的功課呢?  錯誤不可怕,  可怕的是我們失去做選擇的勇氣和承擔後果的態度及能力.  人生中如果沒有選擇的餘地, 會是怎樣呢?!

Hot Air Balloon Ride

When I was first asked to join the balloon ride, my first reaction was to turn it down on the basis that I thought I was afraid of the height.  Upon second thought, I decided to say yes first and find out how, exactly, I was, or was not, afraid of height.

It turned out I was not at all.

One thing that made me think was when I saw the crew working so hard to set up the balloon that big drops of sweat drenched their tank tops and T-shirts and made their faces shining.  And yet when they talked to each other and to us, you could see big smiles too.  It struck me that unless they truly enjoyed what they were doing, this amount of hard labor would make anyone grumpy and complaining.  The weather was hot, dry and people stood around to watch you work, and they waited for you to set up the balloon so they can fly.  I remembered the days when I would be cooking in the kitchen with hungry kids looking on, or when anticipating, chatty guests were gathering for dinner to start.  If there was even a sense of being forced, or demanded to do what I was doing, I remember feeling resentful, and certainly unhappy.  But if it was out of my own volition, it didn't matter then, how many people were waiting and how they were not helping, I would be in a good enough mood to be pleasant.

It is so important to enjoy what you do, especially if this is something you have to do day in and day out.  A job is one of these things.

La Jolla is such a beautiful place!! I can't believe I haven't visited it in the past twenty some years while living in Southern California.  

We visited a candy/ice cream store that absolutely delighted me.  I told them I felt like a kid again, except this time I was a kid with money and I could buy whatever I wanted! Well, I ended up with ONLY a small cup of ice cream.  I guess I was not a kid after all!  There were more than, according to the store owner, four thousand different kinds of sweets, plus cards and toys and interesting things.  I didn't care if it was before lunch time, pleasure principle got the better of me and for about ten minutes while we were in the store, I felt young.

So... lessons of the day:  I am not afraid of height.  Friends are important.  Ice cream is really good, still good, will always be good.  Blessed are those who enjoy their jobs.  Indulgence in a candy store for an adult does more good than harm.  

I was so busy in the candy store; my senses were too busy taking in the surroundings, I forgot to take a picture of myself!

Praise the Lord!

Do you know how little bugs protect themselves from their predators? Boy, they stink!!

Marb and Yoko found this stinky bug in the livingroom and for the entire morning, they couldn't get him because he stinks!!  When they tried to get close to him, his antenna would go up as if to say, "any close, I will prick you!" and he gave out this odor!! Marb and Yoko tried but the smell kept them away.  

I praise the Lord for his protection of these little ones.  Even though they stink!!

Appreciating Life by Slowing Down

I appreciate how my body just works with me and I know if only I give it time, it will let me know its needs.  

I used to go to bed around 10:30 and would naturally wake up eight hours later.  I recently moved my bedtime to 11 and I found out that when I open my eyes in the morning, it's eight hours later at 7.  Yoko comes around that time to wake me up too.  I want to believe it's not her who has learned to allow me to rest for eight hours, but my own body is taking care of itself this way and I just happen to notice this kind of things.

But if you don't have the luxury, for an extended period of time, to not be against some time constraint, you probably will not find out what your body prefers and needs.

I used to have lunch around noon so around that time I will get hungry.  For about 3 years now, my lunchtime has been pushed back to 2 in the afternoon and my body agrees to that and it doesn't send hunger messages to me until around that time.  I find that quite amazing.

I used to sleep on my right side at night.  When I was pregnant with Lydia, I read that some important artery is located on the right side of the uterus and if pregnant women sleep on their left, their babies get more blood supply while the mother sleeps.  I decided I wanted to give my daughter as much as I could give, so I started to make myself sleep on the left side.  After two daughters, I am now "amphibious"  and feel fine either way.

But that took me all those pregnant months!

So it was my morning routine at leisure again today.  I took my time, feeling a bit confused about time and space.  I wonder if modern man/woman, in North America, lives like this.  I felt like I had been in 18th century, living probably in a remote farm house out of nowhere.  On our walk today, I let Beau take his time too.  We made a lot of stops and I just noticed that there was no need to hurry up in me.  I looked at the oval plate at breakfast time, and really appreciated it being oval so my egg and my banana bread could all fit.  For one night I didn't take out trash, and I found an ARMY of ants  in the sink and I traced their path around the crease of the walls, leading to back door.  They sured travelled a long way for an empty yogurt jar.  I used up what's left in the ant spray and wondered what ancient people used to kill ants.  The used spray can now becomes another environmental hazard. I was feeling the hot water splashing on my body in shower, and remembered my gas bill last month was only single digit! In disbelief, I gave thanks.  Litter box was the last thing to do before my morning begins. And it was almost eleven o'clock already!!

These precious moments in the morning are priceless.  

Vivaldi's Gloria in D is playing; cats are sprawling out on their blankie at the foot of my bed; morning sun very gently shines through crisp autumn air  into my room; I hear the music, but also the silence in my heart and can sense the stillness in my soul. 

What a beautiful morning!

I have created 20 lb. of garbage!!

Yesterday Yoko and Marble finished their bag of catfood and I used the 40-lb. bag to put all my garbage in before I dump it in the trash bin.  And that's when I found out they weighed about half of when the bag was full.  So that's 20 lb. of garbage!!

I thought to myself, wow, let's see what's in here because I never realized I can create so much garbage until lately when I have become more mindful about environmental health.

As I went through my mental checklist, I found plastic bags, Q-tips, hair (human and cat), paper, food scraps and Starbucks cups (even though they are 10% recyclable) cans from canned cat food, and other gross things.  And I looked around my place, there are shampoo bottles, plastic this and that, and I worry.  Who knows how many years it will take for these junks to be  "digested" by mother earth.  

I remember my grandma used to save the fat she got from frying some pork meat and she'd save the lard for her future stir fry dishes.  I am beginning to wonder, if used in moderation, maybe lard is not so bad after all, because in that case, she doesn't have to buy plastic bottles of other oils to use and pollute the earth with used plastic bottles.  

We human usually start invent something which we thought are good for us and don't know we are walking down a path of destruction until we start to hurt a little. 

Table Manners

Do parents not teach table manners any more?

I went to Wing Tin after the opera to pick up some lunch for myself.  While waiting, I looked around inconspicuously. (I love to observe people but don't want to get attacked if found out.) This father with his two sons caught my attention.

The apathy on their face.  I feel so sad when I see that expression on people's faces.

And the way the boys are sitting.  And the way they hold their chopsticks.  And the way they chew.  And the way they fight for a piece of meat.  And the expressionless face of the father.

I wonder where the mother is.  Is today the father's turn to have the boys? Is the mother working on Saturday? Is the mother...dead? Has the mother left the father? Did they teach the boys how to sit and have table manners? And other manners in life?  

I imagine when these boys grow up and  have girlfriends.  Will they eat in a fancy restaurant with their sweethearts sitting across at the table and eat like this?! I hope not!  Their legs sprawl out on the chair, their torsos slump over, theirs shoulders sag, and they hold their chopsticks like they are going to get dropped any minute and you wonder if they can pick up anything at all.  Will they eat like that when they become fathers? They sit sloppily at the table like they are just filling up their stomachs and no more.  

The younger boy is the most lively person among the three.  Father and older brother both have flat affect.  Nothing on their faces.  Null.  Their bodies are stiff too.  The younger boy though, has the most actions.  He turns to see if food is coming.  He is the first one to get rice for himself.   I wanted to see if he would get rice for his father and brother, but he only attended to himself.  Boba drink came next, he grabbed it and got himself well taken care of.  His brother got a piece of meat and he took it from his brother's chopsticks!!  He smiled sneakily at the brother and he won.  The whole time the father was oblivious to the interaction and just sat there, his eyes hollow and blank.  He put some food in his older son's plate, and I thought he was defending him from the little robber.  But next he put some on his plate too.  At least he is being fair, I said to myself. And I breathed a whisper of a sigh of relief.

I looked around the restaurant, and I could see no gentlemen manners.  Unshaven, unkempt, barely waking-up looks on their faces, nothingness on their faces.  Slurpping soup/noodles, loudly sipping tea, talking as if no one was around them, poking their noses, blowing into napkins, wiping their mouths like a pirate of the Carribbean, they seem to enjoy themselves, unaware of their contribution to a big picture with one horrified "admirer"-- me.

She must be the owner of the restaurant.  This lady who speaks Beijing Mandarin but has all Cantonese speaking cooks and waitresses working for her.  She looked at my tunic and said, like making an announcement, "where did you buy this? " I whispered to her where, and she announced, "I thought you bought it from Ross.  I saw one like this and I really liked it...should have gotten it."  I thought about how much I spent on this tunic and she thought I got it from Ross!!  My food came and I quickly walked out.  

I love their food, and that is the most important thing.  :-)

I love music!!

Last night, I was having an emotional roller coaster ride at the Disney Concert Hall!  It was Essa-Pekka Salonen and the L.A. Phil. playing Stravinsky's Fireworks and Firebird, and Yefim Bronfman playing Tchaikovsky's piano concerto No. 1.  

I have listened to that piano concerto for so many times that I thought it was going to be a sing-along at best.  But Mr. B surprised me!!  I even thought I heard something I didn't know war there  before.  He is a heavy-build Russian guy and he's got big hands and big fingers but his soft andante passages sounded so gentle and light-footed it's almost comical.  You see the silhouette of a big man but you hear the footsteps of a fawn.  (He also reminded me of my dad, who when used to self teach to play the piano, complained all the time about his finger being too big for the keys.)  And my goodness the power of the opening chords!!  For people with weak hearts, those few seconds could be dangerous.  I was transfixed though.  

I was a little uncertain about Stravinsky before I went.  I thought I was going for Tchaikovsky, and I would just bear with Mr. S.  But the Firebird just blew me away and I felt like a soccer mom at the standing ovation when I heard myself cry "Bravo!!"  Never before in any concert was I so moved that the utterance was so spontaneous and I didn't even feel embarrassed.  For the entirety of the ballet (it was written for ballet but last night was, of course, without the dancers and all that) the orchestration was worse (?) than the gophers popping up from holes at some game booth in a carnival.  You simply couldn't but follow to where it was taking you.  Busy, multi-faceted, intertwining, but absolutely beautiful.  It satisfied my imagination and pumped up adrenalin.  I was so worked up after I went home as to need to unwind before I could go to bed.

Went to see Salome at the Renaissance 14 theatre this morning at 10.  It's an one act opera by Richard Stauss.  It's unusual to see a sea of silver hair in a theatre at this location.  And afterwards we existed slowly, holding onto the handrails.  I told myself to be patient and just start practicing being slow as I will get there one of these days.  The opera is set at Jesus' time and it's the story of King Herold and John the baptist.  The production, however, uses modern costume and staging.  At first, I was very annoyed by that and couldn't reconcile the difference between time and space.  I began to realize later into the opera, the theme of human struggles around life and death, love and hate, lust and true passion, transcends time and space and the incongruence in the visual presentation and our intellectual expectation in fact accentuates the pull.  Another surprise, for me, is how avant-guard Strauss sounded.  You would think there would at least be some beautiful, waltz like, melodies here and there, given our normal association of his name with particular genre of music.  But not in this opera.  I thought they sounded pretty Shoenberg and the whole time I was waiting for some "regular" melody built on the "regular" 7-note major scale.  My ears were not tired though.  Not like when I listen to Shoenberg.  (I am sorry, but I really can't stand this man.)  The only "good guy" in the whole opera was, of course, John the baptist.  And it's only when he sang, I could hear some melody and it was quite a relief!!  I thought, hm...now it makes sense.  When the "bad guys" sing, there is dissonance and clashing chords and the music agonizes me.  When the "good guy" sings, you relax and you are even comforted.  That's it! I don't know if Mr. Strauss intended this dichotomy, but to me, that's a good enough reason.

Tomorrow is Sunday and in the afternoon I will have Bach rehearsal again.  I am traveling in time (backward though) with these great composers in a span of three short days.  What can I say! I love music and Life is good.

I Hate Fake stuff

It was suggested to me that I should attend some training sessions to get myself "certified" as a parenting class facilitator.  The affiliation with the county office of education  and the qualification to give out (Los Angeles county approved) certificates to parents who have completed the 6 classes, and hence qualified to "train" other parents, they believe, will become an asset for the development of their outreach ministry.  

For years I have resisted this concept of "training" volunteer parents to teach others how to be more effective parents.  I believe somethings you can train, but others you shouldn't want to train.  There are things in life that you just have to go through with a humble spirit and be transformed in the process.  Being a parent is one of these things.  I refuse to bring people false hope that by going  to these workshops/training sessions/whatnot, and by learning some "skills", that they will know how to be with their children.  I think the motivation behind a lot of the teachers, is they want to feel good that they hold the magic formula and they feel important when desperate parents come to them for help.  I was once like that without knowing.  And when the Lord revealed my own motivation behind the seemingly sacrificial offering of my time and knowledge, I was disgusted with myself.  But that revelation didn't come overnight.  I found that out about myself gradually, throughout the years when I was teaching nothing but parenting as a job.  

I think it's unethical now, (and I know this is kind of extreme to think this way) to advertise yourself as "trainer of parents" and the content of your program promising instant changes.  It feels like a crash diet commercial.  You do this and that for a month, and you will see results that you can boast of.  How can anyone learn anything in 2 days, or 6 sessions, about how to teach their kids right, (if there even is such a thing) and not even require a booster session or a refreshing course somewhere down the line? 

Parenting is about the relationship, in which who the parent is is more important than how many effective disciplinary methords he knows or uses.  The relationship is a function of who the people are and how they change.  I don't know this can be done in 6 sessions.

I hate all fake stuff.  Equal for real sugar, "creamer" for real cream, machine pieced quilt for hand sewn, baby formula for mother's milk, baby carrier for mother's bosom and father's arms and chest, etc.. Maybe I should go back to live in the 18th century. 

The Real Stuff of parenting is what most modern time parents won't do, because it requires them to give up themselves.  Give up their old ways of talking.  Give up their old ways of listening.  Give up their old ways of how they spend their time.  Give up their old way of looking at life.  Let alone give up their sleep, freedom to have uninterrupted meals, shopping trips and just plans in general.  It is almost political incorrect (oh, how I also hate this expression, as political correctness is more important than Truth.) to encourage mothers to stay home, to breastfeed and to submit to their husbands.  And then a few years later, they come to parenting classes, wondering what has gone wrong in their parent-child relationship!!

Good things take time to cultivate.  Good habits take time to form.  In a world of haste and speed and phoniness, true Beauty and goodness will be hard to find if we don't challenge these false beliefs that all goals can somehow be achieved instantly without sleepless nights of soul searching and without having to go through heartaches and headaches and disillusion and disappointments and hurt and despair and even hopelessness.  

I ask my Father to constantly remind me to not lose hope in my stubborn resistance to the World and its values.

And Can It Be That I Should Gain

And can it be that I should gain?

And can it be that I should gain?

I remember I once visited an older man who was diagnosed with some cancer and would not live long.  Asking visiting a few times, I felt I needed to ask him to receive Jesus as his saviour.  He told me, "it's not fair; I have been a good man all my life, and I am dying of cancer now! He is not a fair God, why would I believe in him?"  I told him, "No, it's not fair.  It's not fair at all!" He looked at me, with a question mark on his face.  I told him it's not fair, because why is it that I should gain eternal life when He died for my sin?  Why should I gain salvation because he gave up his life for me? I told him it really wasn't fair that all he needed to do was to receive him as his lord and saviour and all would be given to him.  I told him "you didn't do anything to deserve this...no, it's NOT fair.  And you are right."

Today in worship, that is the hymn we sang.  It has stuck with me.  How can it be that I should gain? 

I usually don't sing the doxology with the congregation.  I am always filled with thankfulness and awe and surprise and I simply can not open my mouth.  Week after week, I thank the Lord for giving me fresh experience during Sunday worship services.  It continues to bring life to me even after 36 years. 

On a quiet Sunday morning like today, I am remembering all of you who are worshipping him at different places all over the world.  Indeed He is worthy.

First rain this year and Bach

This is the fourth rehearsal for the Bach Mass in B minor.  I just LOVE Bach and feel like my soul is being combed every time I either sing, or play Bach.  I think this if not only with me.  As I walk out of the rehearsal hall, I can always hear people continue to want to sing..." Cum sancto spiritu" Our conductor Dr. Talberg said human minds crave order.  We want to make sense of the world.  When we look at the formless clouds, we naturally, even as child, want to put sense and meaning into what we see, "I think I see a dog..." and our brain likes to fill out the blanks.  I can't agree more with this.

After the rain, the air feels so fresh and there is a hint of Fall.  Marb and I want to be close, so we took a picture together. :-)

She now knows to fetch the ball and bring it up to table and drop it onto the paper I am reading.  Her message is very clear, "C'mon, don't read the paper any more! Play with me!!"

Had breakfast with my lady friends at this cafe called Nano :-) in Morovia.  It's an all American restaurant, like Goody's, except it's owned by two Chinese sisters.  We were there from 8 to 10, but by 9am, this place was already full with people waiting outside!  We sat at an outside table.  After the rain last night, it was perferct!  A little bit chilly, but we were happy.

ML and I went to see "Nights in Rodante" last night.  The whole theatre was quiet, and toward the end you started to hear sniffing and people blowing their noses.  We came out teary eyed too. :-)  We asked the pearl group ladies to all watch it and we will discuss the movie.  

Today is a very relaxing Saturday.

On Time

Even dust takes time to settle.

For everything that happens in our lives, there is our emotional responses to it.  like dust in our environment, we usually are not aware of our emotions until they are stirred up.  Once stirred up,  it takes time to settle, and they may not land at the "right" place.  Once stirred up, our emotions need time to settle too, and they also don't always "land" at where they are supposed to belong.

But how are we doing in terms of taking time to let our emotions settle? And do we make sure they "land" at the right places? 

For fear, we need to find security.  For loneliness, we need to find frienship.  For sadness, we need to find tears.  For happiness and joy, we need to find a buddy to share.  For anger, we need  to find what's behind and beneath.  For hatred, we need to find forgiveness.  And the list can go on.

But imagine, if you don't have time to let them all settle, and find their places.  they are everywhere, and you suffocate or you explode to pieces.  People around you get hurt, and you get hurt too.  

Or, if you don't know what they are and therefore can't find the "right" place for them to land.  Say if you think you feel lonely, when in fact you are afraid. You go out to find friends to chase away lonely feelings, but fear is still there, floating in the air; no place to land, still seeking to get your attention.  You think you are angry, when in fact you are hurt and sad.  You seek revenge, or outlet for your anger to "land" but your sadness is still lurking in the corners of your heart and you don't feel "settled" at all, even after an anger outburst and your friends, including yourself, find you unreasonable.  

I was talking to Richard, my mentor, and for something he said, I was feeling a lot of emotions but I didn't know what they were and I became quiet for a while.  He caught them fleeting, exclaiming "Look at all those emotions on your face!" I felt embarrassed.  He saw something in me that I didn't.  I tried to explain, as if seeing rainbow after the rain, he cried, "there's a different emotion on your face now!!"  I told him we are just friends, and I wasn't really in a mood to be "diagnosed" so I didn't ask him to clarify.  I also think my pride had a lot to do with me not wanting to know more about myself. :-)

I have been humbled again and again lately by the dominance of the swiftness of time and how limited we are, bound by time.  

A wise person invests his time in answering to the single calling from his Maker.  Nothing else matters.

Yoko thinks, "Hm....what is my calling? Be her watch dog?"

thought in a supermarket

"Mommy, you hurt my feelings! Are you going to say sorry, or are you going to say nothing?"

This is what I overheard a (maybe) 8-year-old girl say to her mother at a Chinese supermarket the other day.  I am assuming they were Chinese but the girl was talking to her mother in English.

Following where her eyes were looking, I saw the woman she called mommy.  The apathy I saw on her face greatly disturbed and saddened me.  

I don't know if she believed in "children should be seen but not heard" and therefore didn't hear her child's protest?  I wondered if when the girl was in infancy that her cries did not draw her mother's attention?  Maybe she didn't believe a child's feelings can be hurt too? Or maybe she believed a child's feelings are to be discounted and dismissed because they are just children's feelings and they must be minuscule too?  Maybe she  attends to her child's physical needs by providing shelter from cold, and hunger, and fatigue more readily than meeting her child's emotional needs for love, to be understood, security and respect and the like, because physical needs are seemingly more tangible and gratification of meeting those needs is more immediate and thus more rewarding?  And before you can meet an emotional need, you need to be aware of, and respect its existence and significance.  Maybe this mother is lacking that antenna which is responsible for picking up the nonverbal clues?

Or the idea of a mother saying sorry to her child is foreign to the mother's culture? Or is the mother lacking the tool to communicate her apology to her child so she chose to stay silent? Or was she simply ignoring her child and believing that was the best way to rid of the annoyance?  Or did she fail to see the fact the her child's feeling was hurt and to value that feeling and make amends?

Or did she not understand English to know what her child was saying? But I could hear the protest in the child's tone of voice, and I could see the sadness and slight anger on her young face.  

I guess I just didn't understand, and therefore troubled by what I saw.

I am imagining for this kind of communication to continue and the girl grows to be a young woman.  Will she want to talk to her mother more as she grows up? Will the mother then complain that her daughter doesn't seem to want to talk to her?  

What can be done to bring the mother to the awareness of her daughter's desire to communicate with her and to respond in such a way that will promote deeper communication as they have a future to share together?

Or am I simply thinking too much and worrying too much?

About brushing teeth...

Have you ever noticed how you always towel dry yourself the same way after shower? Have you ever noticed how you always brush your teeth the say way? Do you start from right? Left? Or the middle? Do you always finish the same way? When you put socks on, which foot goes first? How about when you put on your shirt? 

Don't laugh! These little things matter! You have been doing these thing, (hopefully) regularly for a long time now and a habit of how you do it has been built in.  Try change just one little thing about, say, brush your teeth.  Don't do it your normal way.  Deliberately brush shorter/longer/in different order and see how you feel.

These little things we do without thinking provide the basic structure for our security.  Like we know the sun would come up tomorrow morning, we don't think about this kind of things.  Day in and day out, we repeat the routine.  I imagine if one day I am too old and need to go to the old folk's home.  How uncomfortable I must feel,  for people to brush my teeth for me and change me and feed me.  They don't have my rhythm; they simply won't get it because they are not me.

We are not free people.  Not totally free free.  People would like to think they are free and they want to be free from all structure, rules, authority and power higher than themselves.  They want to be their own masters.  But you see how we all submit to these little "rules" that we need, in order to live comfortably.  Change one aspect of it, and your stress level goes up right away.  When we follow these daily routines and how we always do them the same way, we don't mind at all and we don't consider ourselves outdated and politically incorrect. In fact, we want them done a particular way.

Psychologically, and spiritually, we also will feel more "comfortable" if we submit to certain rules.  Like training a child to form good habits, in the beginning, there will be resistance and doubt -- "Do I have to do this? Why do I have to do this every day?" but soon we will just do them without thinking and appreciate the structure and security these routines have given us. 

If you don't believe me, just try towel dry yourself after shower, starting from a different place on your body and pay attention to how you might feel.  You will see what I mean and smile. :-)   

Throne of Grace and Empathy

"for we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are -- yet was without sin.  Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." (Hebrew 4:14-16 )

When we sin, do we go to our loved ones with confidence? Are we afraid that the person who is supposed to love us will be so angry with us that he or she will reject us?  Or do we trust that we will receive nothing but mercy and grace because this other person understands/empathizes/sympathizes with us? 

The L. A. Times a few weeks had an article on dogs yawn when people around them yawn and the article talks about the ability to empathize and how a solid sense of self is the prerequisite for empathy.  So I like how in verse 14 named our high priest "Jesus, the Son of God"  Solid sense of self!! He doesn't change like shifting shadows. (James 1:17)  Empathy is not a modern idea, invented by people who study psychology.  Our God is the author of empathy.  His solid sense of himself, his being one essence, makes it possible for him to empathize with us.  As we become more solid and have a clear sense of who we are, our ability to empathize will only then increase.  Hollow people can't empathize.

May his mercy and grace make me solid and strong, so my presence may be a mini throne of grace for those in need of help.

 

From Target to freedom

I needed to buy new phone and an iron.  I have been putting the shopping trip off without really knowing why.  Today as I was walking out of the store, with my new phone and iron in bags, I understood myself.

My heart literally felt pinched by the number on the receipt.  It's not a big number, but if you know you need to be careful with spending, a trip to the store could feel forced and therefore, somewhat painful.  More expenses!! I wish I didn't have to spend this money... but I need the phone(line) to save my cell phone minute and I need the iron to save money and time to the cleaners.

How not to indulge oneself but also not to overkill by becoming stingy; how to use money wisely and not become a slave of it was something I was thinking about as I was walking in the parking lot on a normal September day like today.

People who don't need to be watchful to make ends meet most likely will not have struggles like this.  They know they have more than they need to spend, or even want to spend.  (Or do such people exist? I am thinking about the Hollywood celebrities.)  For ordinary people like me, this is like many other to-be-or-not-to-be-questions in life.  How much is enough? What is more important? Do I really need this? Is it wrong to sometimes let yourself go and just enjoy yourself? What qualifies for "sometimes"？

Confucius talked about 從心所欲不逾矩, or loosely translated to refer to the freedom to follow your heart's desires without violating (moral) norms. I admire that kind of freedom.  And that kind of being "right" all the time.  But I think Jesus gives us a better kind of freedom.  He talked about there is no condemnation in him.   He knows only when there is no fear of being caught making mistakes, are we free to live our lives with the resources He has given us.  

He has given us plenty of opportunities to learn to make right decisions.  Going to Target to buy what I think and rethink to be "necessities" is just a blessed example of that learning experience.  It would be scary, to say the least, if there WAS condemnation, because many times only when we look back, could we conclude if the decision was right.

About the upkeep of self and others...

I was cooking breakfast this morning and while I was waiting for my coffee to brew, I cleaned up the sink and put away what were in the dish rack from yesterday when this thought hit me : I, like all things in life, deteriorate despite my daily efforts to upkeep them.

I wash my face for it to get dirty and I wash it again.

I take out trash only to have trash again.

I eat and I get hungry and I eat again.

Everyday I need to take care of myself and even so I get old and I die eventually.

Everyday I take care of my plants and they give flowers but they get old and they die too.

I spend a big amount of time and energy in the care of my physical body.  Eight hours I sleep and I prepare meals and I have daily grooming routine to follow and I exercise and I make sure my living environment is healthy too.  And there is the emotional me that needs attention and regular pruning too.  I need time to feel, to heal and to be ready to give, to embrace, and even to be hurt again.  

The routine of eat and drink and get hungry and thirsty again is to me, a constant reminder that I am indeed made of earth and to earth shall I return.  I have limitations.  The routine of cleaning the cat litter box knowing I will need to do it again the following morning, like other routines in our lives, gives me a sense of security.  We all need routines to help anchor us.  The need for routine, for structure, however, also points to the fact that the world can't sustain itself.  We, without proper care, or even with proper care, deteriorate.

I pray, that my soul eats and drinks from the well of Him, that I may not be hungry and thirsty again.

pj's and privacy

While driving to work this morning, I saw an Asian man walking down the sidewalk in his pj's.  I was appalled. And realized no so soon after that this is what the process of assimilation has done in me.

When I was a child, I remember going to the open-market with my grandmother, and I saw people wearing their loungewear and pajamas , apparently just out of bed, bustling between grocery stands, trying to get the most fresh produce and meat and maybe bringing home breakfast too.  The sight of pajamas in public places didn't bother me at all.

28 years ago I came to the United States and started learning the concept of privacy and living in and around the respect, even demand, of it.  It feels good.   You feel safe, important and there starts to be a sense of ownership of your life.  You learn what to reveal and what not to.  And it's okay because you are the owner, and you decide.

Pajamas are not for public places!!  Pajamas is something you wear when you are in your home; it's meant for the bedroom.  Okay, kitchen sometimes too.  Not the sidewalk!

I used to hear my Japanese neighbor scolding her daughter because she didn't change into work clothes while vacuuming.  This morning when I saw that man, I think I felt the same way.  I used to think my neighbor was too rigid and harsh on her daughter.  She was just vacuuming.  As long as she gets the job done well.  I thought that should be all it mattered.

When a social norm is violated, we have an emotional reaction to it.  With my bi-cultural background, finding what is "norm" for me has been... at times, shocking, to myself. 

意識到自己的動機

每個星期三看莎麗是我很期待的一件事. 莎麗四十歲, 在高中的時候被診斷為患有精神分裂症. 我在一年多以前接到她的個案, 一直都很敬佩她不屈不撓為自己想辦法的精神. 她不願意再住進醫院, 所以她乖乖的和精神科醫生合作吃藥控制幻覺和錯覺. 她知道孤立的生活是對她不利的, 所以她堅持去教會, 並參加小組, 雖然她不太講話,因此別人也不太認識她, 但是她在去了三年之後, 也多少交到了一些朋友. 雖然不算深交, 他們都能接受她的拘謹和寡言. 並且尊重她不太願意講她家裡的事, 包括她父母因家暴離異, 和她同住的父親也有類似的精神疾病.

莎麗來的時候總有一肚子的話要講, 常常講著講著就忘了自己本來的重點是什麼. 今天也不例外.

"我忘了是誰告訴我..."

我隨即提供資料 :"是你弟弟威廉."

話一出口我就意識到自己的動機原來是想表現自己的記憶有多好. 我一面繼續聽她講述, 一面為自己這一瞬間的發現感到吃驚. 我的訓練和經驗讓我可以一面聽案主陳述, 一面意識到自己內心的動向, 包括我的感受, 和腦筋裡的分析, 推理, 結論, 以及做出適當的回應. 但是也有的時候像今天這樣, 話說出了口才意識到原來不是最恰當的.

莎麗其實在說 "我忘了是誰 .." 的時候, 重點並不在於記起, 雖然她的臉上也的確露出在思索的表情. 但是再仔細的聽她的語氣的話, 我其實應該聽到她語氣中有"讓我想..."的意味, 我的切入雖然表現了我對她生活的熟悉和對她所講過的話的認真, 但是卻屬於不是時候, 也很多餘. 莎麗並沒有在向我要求答案.

我想, 一個好的治療師必須對自己的動機多有了解. 越是能掌握自己內心的動態, 洞悉自己的動機, (雖然百分之一百的明白自己的動機也不是可能的) 就越能知道自己說什麼, 做什麼倒底是為了面前的案主的益處, 還是為了自己的感覺好; 到底是以案主為主, 還是以自己為主.

今天這一秒鐘的覺悟和震撼讓今天一天沒白過.

過分簡單化的悲哀

寫信給一個朋友提到最近心情的沮喪. 回信更讓人沮喪 :" 也許你從義大利回來休息不夠. 多睡一會兒, 過兩天就會好了. 我的日子也足夠叫我沮喪, 但我只好努力振奮自己...."

我想可能是我信中提到 "不知為什麼最近很沮喪..." 那其實是一個無力感的表達, 並不是一個在尋找答案的問題. 我並不想被告知或提醒可能會讓我沮喪的原因, (我其實心裡有數) 那樣說只是心聲的表達, 希望他可以知道我目前的狀態. 如此而已.

很多人犯同樣錯誤: 她們很想幫助朋友恢復愉快的心情, 便瞎出主意. 有時把事情過度簡單化, 好像這樣就可以幫朋友快點從沮喪的心情走出來. 他們或許有所不知, 人生有些事情和關卡就是必須一個人擔當和一個人走過. 沒有人可以在旁邊說一兩句話就可以讓當事人快速通關. 有朋友在一旁打氣加油支持固然是好, 旦旁觀者畢竟不是那跑馬拉松的人. 通常沮喪的人都是在生命中碰到一場馬拉松, 不到終點無法做結論, 卻又不願意中途而廢.

人生的事比馬拉松更複雜, 時間線更長. 很多事不是睡一場覺, 想開點就可以解決的.

難道這種感覺也只是想太多的人才有嗎? 還是這是人生的真相?

想太多的結果

我是那種會被人家說是想太多的那種人. 也許有的人會說, 想太多的人是自尋煩惱的人. 但是會想太多的人就是不能不想. 我倒覺得, 不想的人很可能是把頭埋在沙裡. 她們告訴自己別想了, 想有什麼用, 只不過是徒增痛苦. 就好像有人說, 哭有什麼用, 只是讓你頭疼眼睛腫而已. 他們常對自己這麼說, 所以很會不想, 也很能不哭.

但是會想太多的人告訴自己, 我一定要把它搞清楚, 一定要想明白. 他們允許自己去想, 雖然痛苦也照樣要想.

有人選擇不想不痛;有人選擇又想又痛. 大家都繼續活著.

我在想, 這兩種人生, 是否有一種是比另一種 "好"嗎? 我想不想的人可以學著會想, 可是會想的人無法不想. (這也許是會想的人的優越感作祟吧!) 每種人都根據自己覺得哪種生活型態是更 "值得的"做出了選擇.

這部落格就是想太多的結果.