Death and Other Morbid Thoughts

Someone asked me the other day if I ever had recurring nightmares. Although I have had my share of nightmares (like everyone else) and woken up shaking and scared many times, very rarely has the same one happened more than once. I remembered though that several years ago, I started having a recurring dream that has always stayed with me. The dreams started right after a friend of mine was brutally murdered. When I found out about her death, I felt a huge sense of guilt. She had been 21, young, beautiful, an entire life ahead of her and it was snuffed out in one moment. The last conversation we had was terribly trivial but she had been right there in front of me within my grasp. I couldn't help but wonder if by saying something, or not saying something, I could have changed the ultimate outcome of her fate; but then I feel terribly hopeless, because somehow it seems that her destiny was irrevocably sealed and decided.

So after she died, the dreams started. They were always the same; I would be dead, riding on my way somewhere with countless other people. We would arrive to the destination that allowed us passage to Paradise, and right at the thresh hold I was turned back. Always turned back. I would wake up with this feeling of disappointment. Why did I have the right to live while other's lives are cut short? Every day is a blessing, but who decides how many days we are blessed with or why we are blessed with so many or so few? I can't help but think that perhaps life is a series of near hits and misses with death. We may not know it, but this whole series of alternate events could exist. What if you hadn't stopped to tie your shoe before crossing the street? Perhaps that car running the red light would have it you. Or you decided at the last minute to take a different route home one night? Perhaps you avoided that mugger waiting in that same dark alley you usually walk down.

So what to do with the time that is given us? Perhaps the most difficult thing (at least for me) is to come to terms with the fact that we are all rushing towards the same end. Rich or poor, man or woman, we all die. So the issue at hand is how to grasp at this brief and transient life. How to accept the mystery of what really happens when we die. To determine if your faith will give you the strength to believe fully that there is a good place for your soul on the other side of that dark abyss.

Steinbeck wrote that the older we get the less obsessed with death we are. I suppose he meant that we come to terms with the concept when we are closer to it. As for me, I feel the older I get the harder it is for me to grasp and the concept gets more and more frightening. As for my dreams, they stopped when I realized that there is a great being looking out for me. I don't believe that I have any more of a right to live than anyone else, but all I can do is be thankful that I have been given the privilege to be alive on this day, in this hour, right at this very minute. I am scared of death, and although I wish I could change and control this fate, there is nothing to do but resign to the ultimate destiny that makes us all equals.

Haircuts and Loss of Translation

Ladies if you need to get your haircut in the future, just come to Taiwan. Yesterday I wandered into a 'small' salon near my house. I didn't have low expectations, but I certainly did not expect what followed. An adorable young lady in a uniform bounced up to me, led me to a seat and then turned on a small TV set in the mirror. I was brought hot tea and she proceeded to allow me to flick through TV channels while she gave me a shoulder and back massage. Really. Unbelievable - at least to me. After about ten glorious minutes of getting those knots in my shoulders out, she went into an long and intricate scalp massage using shampoo. I didn't even have to move from my chair until it came time to rinse. What was even better about this process was that she didn't avoid talking to me because I couldn't understand. She was so sweet about asking simple questions so that I wouldn't feel out of it. When I did move to get my hair rinsed, she went through the process massaging my temples and then placing a hot clothe on the back of my neck. I practically melted I was so relaxed.
Back to the chair, another woman came around wearing a different uniform. She gave me a book of hairstyles but called over one of the other patrons who could speak English in order to translate what I wanted. Snip, snip, snip. Finished, a different young lady came to dry my hair, then finally styled it. You can imagine I was getting a bit nervous at this point. You see, I hadn't expected all this and I was imagining this huge bill at the end. With trepidation I went to the counter to pay. Fifteen dollars. It all cost fifteen dollars. Yes, jaw drops, mouth gapes. A Wal-mart haircut in the States costs at least ten - in Taipei for fifteen you can come out relaxed and happy. Of course you have to have an hour or so to spare out of your day, but it's totally worth it! For some reason I think of all the ladies I know and how much they would love it - Barb, Liz, Lydia, Terri....ah the list goes on and on. So if you ladies ever come my way, I know exactly where to take you first :).

Travels

While I was traveling I wrote religiously in my journal every day. I wanted so much to have a way to remember and even to try to share what my experiences were. Now, as I sit here writing, I realize that there is no way for anyone to understand these experiences. Mostly because everyone has different reactions to the same experience, but also because a lot of people wouldn't care to take the same sort of adventure. We are all adventurers in our own right, but we don't all like the same kind of adventure.
For me, on this trip it was a relief to be traveling with someone who was as laid back as I am. This way, we avoided anyone complaining about the not so clean hostels, the dirty public restrooms, the cold showers, the difficulties in not understanding a lot of the language, etc. We went to small towns, camped, experienced the Taiwanese hospitality again and again. I will never forget getting up looking grungy and groggy after having slept on the hard ground all night by Sun Moon Lake and having the family camped a ways down walk up and offer us breakfast. Or the family that ran the first hostel we stayed at sitting us down to share their wonderful dinner. Even just asking for directions seemed so easy when taxi drivers were willing to tell you which direction to walk instead of conning you into having them drive you. And so, even though I thought I was already in love with Taiwan, I have come to a whole new level in my love affair with this country and it's people. I remember riding through the mountains on this tiny bus and looking out the window at the mountains of palm trees and greenery. My thought was that I didn't deserve to be so fortunate to be able to experience this.
The one experience of this trip that I would like to try to share is the one I had in Jiji. We had ridden the train in that morning and rented a bike to ride around the town and see the sights. Jiji is this tiny little town without even a movie theatre. We were the only tourists that I saw the entire day we were there. The one sight I truly wanted to see was the largest temple in Southeast Asia located right there in that tiny little town. It was quite a trek, we ended up having to push the bike up this long, winding road to the top of a mountain. It was totally worth all that work. This huge temple was perched with a view to die for. Lavish decorations, grotesque yet fascinating statues, giant golden idols. I removed my shoes and entered the temple to be directly greeted by a huge golden idol in the center of the room. It was deadly silent there, monks with shaved heads sat silently praying. This was one of the great reminders of the power of religion.
As I stood contemplating the idol, I couldn't help but think how empty it seemed. After all it is only a statue, can God be present or contained in this representation of a greater being? It was terribly overwhelming. I cannot help but admire people who are willing to give up everything in order to follow a greater purpose, but standing in that silent room staring up at that statue I couldn't feel God. Thinking back, I realized that I had felt God that morning when I stood looking at the sun rising over Sun Moon Lake, and I felt God looking at the huge field of flowers right outside of Puli, and I felt God when I talked to this tiny girl on a bus heading to Shuili. As wonderful as that temple was, it was man made. The statue was created by men, every stone set in place by human beings. But for some reason, it seems as if all is right with the world when you can look at things that are so beyond human comprehension and understanding and realize that there is a great creator behind it all.

Karaoke and Chicken Feet

"Let me show you something really cool." my friend Zac told me. We had just finished up with our Chinese tutor and he led the way as we set off on a brisk walk. It felt as if we were in the heart of the city, but the wonderful thing about Taipei is that one turn will take you to somewhere completely new. One minute we were walking on a busy sidewalk with traffic rushing by, the next we were climbing up a steep stone staircase completely surrounded in lush green foliage. We climbed and climbed working up a sweat. Finally we came out on an opening and spread out before us was the entire city. Neither words nor pictures can justify the feeling of looking down at it all spread before us, the river running through the middle, the bridges and mountains off in the distance.
As we looked for a way down, we ran into a couple climbing down. We stopped to ask for directions and to see if there was a hiking trail further up. From the little I could grasp, the only way left to go was back down. Things took an unexpected turn when the man grabbed Zac's arm and said "Karaoke!". Zac protested saying he couldn't sing, but the man wasn't taking any excuses; almost by force he led Zac down the path to and open pavilion. I was laughing, but of course had no choice but to follow. Out in the middle of nowhere, on the side of this mountain, there was a karaoke machine and a gathering of people singing and having Sunday fun. On the table was spread a variety of food ranging from chicken, fish, chicken feet, noodles, etc. No one questioned or wondered how we ended up there; instead, so hospitable, they began to force food on us. I was served noodles and plates were pushed in my face as the encouraged me to eat and not be shy. They kept peeling oranges for me and refilling my cup of tea - even when it was almost full. It was immensely hysterical because I could only understand a couple words - although Zac seemed to manage better than I did.
Then the inevitable happened - they asked us to sing karaoke. Zac pawned it off on me telling me that they had fed us and I should sing in return. A song was chosen and for the first time in my life I did karaoke. I had always sworn before that I would never be able to do it without at least a couple drinks in me, but it wasn't as embarrassing as I thought it would be. I rendered my own version of "My Girl" and then managed to get Zac up to sing "Yesterday". At that point I'm not sure what happened, everyone obviously assumed we were together and poor Zac (who has a girlfriend) kept saying "No! No!" but hysterically we ended up with arms on each others shoulders singing away. Finally, we left them and descended once again to the busy city below; but not without a feeling of having been refreshed.
I was so impressed by how lovely and kind these people were to complete strangers. They fed us, let us hang around, and didn't expect anything in return. Not something I would ever have experienced in the United States. So far, it is one of the most memorable moments I've had. I am very much reminded of the culture in Mexico - where hospitality is such a wonderful gift.

A night at Xin Beitou

The suggestion came at night. It was late and rainy, the weather was definitely less than ideal. However, Zac is apparently one of the more rambunctious Australians, because according to him the weather was perfect for a visit to the Hot Springs at Xinbeitou. I was less than convinced. We played a round of rock, paper, scissors with the winner deciding if we would go or not. I lost. Next thing I knew we are on the subway heading north. The dark night was not softened by the falling rain - in fact a chilly wind was causing me to continually regret having to go.
Dismounting the subway we walked through the rain. The 40NT (1.50) was paid at the door and I saw five pools of water. People lounged on the rocks next to them while others sat in the water soaking. Zac having abandoned me for the sake of the conversation of a young Asian woman, I was forced to discover the springs alone. I headed towards a pool in the center. Looking sufficiently bewildered, I drew the attention of a middle aged Taiwanese man who was exiting the pool. He paused and kindly explained to me how I should not just dip my feet (people would think I was washing them off and getting the water dirty), he showed me how to wash my feet off with the tiny bucket set on the stone steps leading to the pool, he explained how the pool below the one we were at was 'general' temperature, and the temperature increased the higher up the pool was located, he pointed out the cold water pool, and finally politely excused himself after cautioning me to enter slowly.
I did, the water was deliciously hot and relaxing. People lounged, and thankfully no one stared. I was the only Caucasian there, but people politely minded their own business. An older lady in a swimming cap that looked as if it had come straight out of another era sat beside me and inquired where I was from. She explained how everyone was very careful to not get the water dirty. People were considerate and followed the rules so that everyone could enjoy the springs.With restrained concern, she explained how it was dangerous for women to stay in the hot water for too long. She suggested that I climb up on the rocks and cool off for awhile. I followed her advice, climbing in and out frequently. My sore muscles relaxed and the rain that was still falling no longer felt so cold.
By the time we left at ten, I was done cursing Zac for dragging me out there. In fact, I was so mellow and relaxed that I couldn't help but smile. I am so lucky to be living in the best place on the planet.:)

A Random Thought

There is no happiness for him who does not travel!
Thus we have heard.
Living in the society of men, even the best man becomes a sinner.
Therefore, wander!
The fortune of him who is sitting, sits.
It rises when he rises.
It sleeps when he sleeps.
It moves when he moves.
Therefore, wander!
Aitreya Brahmanan, the Rigveda (800-600 BC)

Reading this poem, I was struck by two things; the first was how ingrained it is in the human nature to wander, the second was how narrow it seemed to say that someone who does not travel has no happiness. More and more, it is rare to find people who do not travel. Even those who appear to be complete homebodies travel - whether it be on vacation, to visit family, or simply driving to the next town for groceries. But what of the person who really doesn't travel? He who is born, lives, and dies in the same town, knowing the same people, doing the same things. Is he not happy? Perhaps the phrase 'There is no happiness for him who does not travel' isn't meant to be taken literally. You can travel places without even leaving your home. Perhaps it's merely the connotation that a person who travels not in life, is unhappy. And travel in life is inevitable. Every day that we change, try to make ourselves better, try to accomplish some ambition, or just the act of trying to live a good life, all of this constitutes a journey. Sure, it's not seemingly as romantic as traveling to different places, whether abroad or at home, but it is the greatest journey that anyone can take. Sometimes the greatest things in life are just hidden behind this facade of what often seems to be something arid or unexciting. So the greatest unhappiness perhaps comes to him who does not change, does not live life to the extent it was meant to be lived, does not embark on the great journey of constantly trying to reach one's fullest potential. In the end, we are all travelers, wanderers, and wayfarers, and it's exciting to think of all that we are constantly moving towards.

Chinese Sponge Bob and Other Adventures

Fitting in to school and life in general here has been pretty seamless and uncomplicated. Maybe I'm used to worse, or maybe it's the people I've met and the connections I've made, either way almost daily I think "It shouldn't be this easy". I haven't felt freaked out or alarmed by the culture...I've discovered a lot of things, had my share of embarrassing moments, and I still feel ok.

Although I can't help but feel that one day I'm going to be taken out by a car, moped, or bicycle and left spread out on the street in pieces, other than that I don't have any complaints. Taipei is similar in many ways to any large city one visits in one's lifetime. There's the congestion, city traffic, banks, restaurants, and parks. That, however, is only on the surface. Delving into the night markets it's a different feeling completely. Courtesy of a friend, I have eaten dumplings, oyster omelettes, stinky tofu, and an array of things that I can't even recall the names of (and I'm not quite sure what was in them either). I love all of it.

I love taking the bus and subway everywhere. In this way, I am very much reminded of Mexico. Most people don't have their own individual car, the bus and subway are the only way to get around the city. The transportation system is fantastic and well organized. I've waited for a bus over 20 minutes very few times. What's better is that I can't be lazy and say "Today I'll just drive to school" or beg Eric to drive me! But I love that part of my life too.

Down a narrow, slightly dirty alley, up four floors of narrow, slightly dirty stairs, is my apartment. Or rather the one that I share with two other people. Again, I can't possibly have anything to complain about. In fact, I think my standard of living is higher than when in Austin. I use my individual AC to stay cool, I have cable TV (and watch Sponge Bob in Chinese, believe it or not), and free use of the kitchen. And I love it all.

I know, I know, I've only been here three weeks. I just can't possibly not imagine liking it here.... and beware everyone, I may not want to go back. If I didn't have my major to finish up in Texas, I would be strongly tempted to stay and find a job and just work here for awhile. But again, it's probably too soon to tell if these feelings are real and stable.
I cannot fail to mention, however, that I am blown away by the people that I meet on a daily basis. Many are college graduates who are out travelling and experiencing exciting things. I'm not accustomed to being around people who have a similar mindset - people who don't want to settle down to a job, or get married right away, or even live in the same place for long. I think that the people I have met are the best part of what I have experienced so far. I realize that it's okay to do things that matter to you instead of settling down to the expectations of the fast - paced culture of the USA.
When I was in Mazatlan last December, I remember a friend being really surprised that I hadn't settled down to a career or at least gotten married. In his eyes, I should be 'grown up' enough to take the responsibility of building something stable. But then again, that is the culture. Anyone who reads this has probably completely gone against the culture themselves. Like I've mentioned before, I was raised around adventurers. People who leave behind their entire lives for something they believe in. People who don't settle down, or develop what many would consider a stable life. And better yet, I was raised by two great adventurers - my parents. Even now, neither one seems ready to 'settle down'. And that's a comfort to me.

Pros and Cons of a new city

Well it's been exactly a week since I arrived in Taipei, and compared to other experiences I've had abroad this one isn't that bad. Maybe I'm older, wiser, or even just more experienced, but I feel that I am not as shocked about this as I should be. What happened to culture shock, or excruciating homesickness, or even the usual tearing up when saying goodbye to people at home? I honestly don't know. I'm sure some of that will occur as I go along, but here are some of the pros and cons of living here so far:
1. Pro: I don't get nervous when I get on the bus because now I know where I'm going.
Con: Now that I know where I'm going, the exciting sense of bewilderment has worn off and the routes are in danger of becoming ordinary.
2. Pro: I can find foods that are good for me, and usually foods I like (except spicy Mexican:()
Con: I no longer have bragging rights to say that I scrounge for eggs, milk, and other food on the black market. (Starting to wonder? Oh the stories I could tell!)
3. Pro: I don't understand 99% of what anyone says to me, forcing me to listen and learn.
Con: I don't understand 99% of what anyone says to me, meaning I have trouble at the bank, post office, police station (when I accidentally wander in), and generally anywhere else that I go.
4. Pro: People don't stare at me here like I expected. It's nice to go unnoticed!
Con: When someone DOES stare, I get paranoid and think there is something on my face.
5. Pro: It's much easier to communicate with my family and friends. Internet and Skype keep us connected.
Con: Coordinating times to call can be tricky with a 13 hour time difference.
6. Pro: I connect with new and interesting people.
Con: Despite Internet, it's easier to become disconnected with the interesting people back home.
7. Pro: I've discovered a smile is usually the best thing to give when someone is talking to me and I don't understand.
Con: Not everyone thinks a smile is nice.
8. Pro: It's easy to find transportation to get anywhere in the city.
Con: I have also lost bragging rights to horror stories about buses and hitchhiking. (Like I said, the stories I could tell!!)
9. Pro: It's common for people to walk places so no one looks at me strangely or honks.
Con: The right of way is ALWAYS given to a vehicle. If a collision occurs (which is likely) I'm sure the pedestrian would be accused of bad walking and therefore crashing into the car or moped.
10. Pro: I will never complain about my dad's driving ever again.
Con: I will pray to survive traffic every day when I go out.
So, that's that. I could only come up with ten, but I'm sure there will be more:)

A Trip Takes Me

It's always an odd feeling when you realize that your life is going to change completely in a matter of days. Slowly I've been pulling out of people's lives, becoming less actively involved; mainly because I realize that I am forced to let things go. I can worry, but I can't do much good half a world away. I can't offer a hug on a bad day, or tell my dad that I'll be down for the weekend, or hang out and talk with my brother. Although I'm not afraid to embark on this journey, but I am pensive about the change. I know that these coming months may be difficult for my family, not because I'll be gone but because I won't be here when things change.

Right now, I feel a sort of deja vu. I am in the same situation that I was in when I embarked on one of my biggest adventures at 17. I'm in a hotel room. Alone. Again. Steinbeck wrote that the best way to grow accustomed to loneliness is to be by yourself. Being alone is difficult, but there is a certain stimulating factor to airports and hotel rooms - even if it is by yourself. It would seem that places like airports and hotels are not really part of the sprawling metropolis' or the towns that surround them. They are stopping points - like a dock in the center of a lake. You swim to it, but your purpose is to keep going. You stop for a moment and then continue on in your quest to go somewhere else. The people themselves are like their own independant ships; they pass each other never stopping to get to know that other person. Even when they do, they know that they will never meet again.
The beauty of it is that these stopping points mean the passing through to another place. No matter the reason for traveling, there is always a certain excitement in never knowing how a trip can change you. Perhaps I've been reading too much Steinbeck, but I also recall him writing that we don't take trips, trips take us. And yes, although everything seems to be planned, you will never know what can happen once you step out your door. So despite the possible loneliness and insecurities, I can't help but agree with Steinbeck. I am ready for this trip to take me - and I look forward to the adventures that will follow.

People Who Inspire

I have been one of those fortunate people who grew up in the church. Not just any church, however, but in a church surrounded by encouraging and inspiring people. Now, as I look back at my fortunate childhood and upbringing, I reminisce about people who still inspire awe and admiration - and they don't even know it.
Missionaries are some of the most fantastic people on the planet. They always put others before themselves, and always honor the greatest and most worthy call. I look at those that spend part of the year doing missions work, and give their time and donations to see that work continued. I am inspired by the young missionary couples that at my age left behind an entire culture in order to obey a calling. People that have learned new languages, withstood poverty, and pushed on despite discouraging circumstances because they believe in a cause. There is a single woman I know who drove to Mexico because that was what God wanted her to do. And although I have had my share of difficulties and loneliness, it has only been for short periods of my life. I can only begin to imagine the hardship that comes with making a lifetime commitment to a difficult lifestyle.
Looking back, I also realize that my mother was my age when she had made the choice to live the life of a missionary. This weighs heavily on me. Out of all the pastors and missionaries I have met, my parents have always amazed me the most. I see a lifetime dedication to a good work, to God, to hundreds of lives that have been touched over the years. In the case of my mother, I sometimes feel that she gave her life for this cause. My father is still doing it. The passion he continues to display is overwhelming.
And yet, I haven't the courage to ask any of these people how it feels to change the world - even if it seems small on the larger scale of our universe. Because when I look at all the people I know who change the world on a daily basis, who live humble lives, who live to help the next person who comes into their lives, I feel small and insignificant. That's ok though, because I think - as corny or cheesy as it may sound - that's how you feel when you have lived around and been surrounded by heroes.

Choreographing

Setting a choreography can be a nightmare and a blessing. For me, it was so much easier to set my first piece because no one expected anything of me. But the first one (to my great shock) turned out well, and now the pressure is on to keep creating. I just want to remember to let it happen naturally. But there's a deadline, and I don't have days and weeks to think about how I want to tweak and change the piece. The way it is it has to stay.
Choreography is a blessing. A way to get out the creativity buried deep within and put it out there for others to be affected by it. A way to take what is in my imagination, the visions you get when you hear a certain music, and make them real.
Choreography is a nightmare. I wake up at night thinking about it. I worry that it won't look good, that the dancers can't handle it, that it won't measure up the the standards I have set. I've actually made myself sick to my stomach with worry. And then I turn in to a monster at the rehearsals and yell.
My mother gave me some lovely advice over the phone. Probably no one will know the mistakes except me. But sometimes just me knowing is enough to drive me crazy. Only time will tell.......
As always, creating something is a privilege, a gift that God allows me to use and something for which I am deeply grateful. It is a step away from some of the problems that are in daily life and a step into a world where I can freely change and tweak to make something good.