The Process (or why a tree is not a tree)
Take a leaf off a tree. Is it still a tree? Take a single twig off a tree. Is it still a tree? Remove an entire branch from a tree. Is it still a tree? Take off half of the branches. Is it still a tree? Cut down the whole tree, leaving only the stump. Is it still a tree? Many people would say no, it is no longer a tree, though the roots may still be in the ground. Well, where did the tree go? Removing a leaf, it remains a tree, but not by removing all of the branches and the trunk?
In the real world, there aren’t any things as we commonly think of them. A ‘thing’ as we refer to it is only a noun. A noun is merely an idea, a mental construct. These ‘things’ exist only in our minds. There is no tree, there is only the idea of a tree.
—Anonymous
I’ve been writing here for almost a decade, pouring 10 years of my life into this blog. I recently considered cleaning up the content by deleting a significant chunk of my old entries; I’m not the same person as when I wrote them, and I don’t even like who I was back then. Not to mention the fact that some are rather embarrassing, like reading your old diary in high school when the biggest problem was what people thought when you wore your uniform cause you forgot it was a Civvies Day.
The problem I was faced with was deciding what should be deleted. People aren’t static; they’re processes, events, evolutions, made up of cells that continually renew themselves on a daily basis. At what definable point can I say these entries are no longer me? It could be argued that even posts as recent as a few months ago aren’t an accurate representation, though there may still remnants of the old me in the habits of my thoughts.
Then I came across this passage in The Tao by Mark Forstater, on the subject of how using human language to encompass and describe a concept such as the Tao is logically suspect: “Reality can’t be enclosed and described by words. Symbols aren’t real in the way that a tree is real, and however much we may delude ourselves that they are, we’ll eventually find that the word ‘water’ won’t quench our thirst.”
I came to accept that the things I write here have never been and never will be a complete reflection of who I am, so I’ve decided to keep all the entries. The ones written by my old self serve as a reminder of who I was, and at the very least, they tell me where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.
Arrows with no target
I don’t view my projects the same way anymore. I used to work towards a goal, an idea of what I wanted to achieve. But more recently I stopped caring about the end result, probably due to this new perspective on…everything.
It’s a strange juxtaposition of knowing that what you’re doing is ultimately insignificant, and finding enjoyment in doing it anyway. Like a child stacking a pile of blocks, only to knock them down.
The wikipedia article on wu wei explains feeling this better than I can:
The goal for wu wei is to get out of your own way, so to speak. This is like when you are playing an instrument and if you start thinking about playing the instrument, then you will get in your own way and interfere with your own playing. It is aimless action, because if there was a goal that you need to aim at and hit, then you will develop anxiety about this goal.
Zhuangzi made a point of this, where he writes about an archer who at first didn’t have anything to aim at. When there was nothing to aim at, the archer was happy and content with his being. He was practicing wu wei. But, then he set up a target and “got in his own way.” He was going against the Tao and the natural course of things by having to hit that goal.
(This also reminds me of a verse from Leonard Cohen’s True Love Leaves No Traces: “Through windows in the dark/The children come, the children go/Like arrows with no targets/Like shackles made of snow.)
Nowadays, I do what I feel like doing and don’t stress out about not finishing a project, cause I know I’ll feel like working on it another day. It leaves me more loose ends, but I don’t mind. Luckily, I love creating things. Trying different mediums. New ways of expressing myself.
29 6/12: The Arrival
I haven’t had much to say lately. Suffering has always been a prerequisite for my creativity, as I only need to write when unfulfilled or unhappy, and lately I haven’t felt either.
The realization that I was happy only came when someone asked how I was doing; I responded with my usual, generic, “I’m doing well, thanks”, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t feel like I was lying.
Not that the desire to write has left me completely. I still want to, though only because it’s an enjoyable exercise in itself, not because I need to get something off my chest. The world finally makes sense, and I wonder if it’s necessary to have this blog a place to sort out my thoughts anymore.
I’m satisfied with the person I’ve become. I’ve stopped trying to change, or constantly figuring out how to improve. I like me.
The serenity is getting better still, almost to the point where it’s an unconscious state-of-mind. Things don’t bother me the way they used to. I can dream without desire, I can live without bias, I can give without expecting, I can think without worry, and I can enjoy without guilt.
I turn 30 in half a year, and I finally feel like I’m where I should be.
The Turning 30 Series
29 2/12: The Lachrymologist
I used to be a crier. Any strong emotion, good or bad (though more often the latter), could bring on tears like a reflex. Now, I can’t remember the last time I cried, which means it’s been a while. More than a year, I suspect.
Getting misty-eyed doesn’t count; that’s too easy. A poignant scene in a movie, the right song at the right moment, even seeing someone demonstrate a Tai Chi movement with masterly detail and precision can cause my heart to swell, but the feeling only lasts as long as a few blinks after the blurred vision. When I refer to crying, I mean when the tears are enough to overflow and leak.
When I was young, the kids in school would laugh at boys who cried — much less socially acceptable in this culture — but I was never embarrassed about it. I thought it was natural, the way some people are gay or Caucasian. I thought I’d grow out of it, the way one grows out of a fear of the dark gradually and subconsciously, but I kept crying well into my 20s.
I’ve always wondered if my dad has ever cried, even as a child. I can’t picture him doing it, not even when my grandmother dies. He’s so carefree and logical that I can’t see anything affecting him emotionally. With my dad as my early model for a man, I’m sure this is part of the reason I don’t feel like an adult yet. Society teaches us that adults, or male one’s at least, aren’t supposed to cry.
I’m not sure why it’s been so long for me. Maybe the therapy, combined with my study of Taoism, has evened out my ups and downs, helping me acknowledge my weaknesses (so I’m not as hard on myself), as well as the uncontrollable nature of life. Maybe my life is stable enough now that I didn’t need that kind of release.
I turn 30 in 10 months, and I wonder when I’ll cry again.
The Turning 30 Series
Five Year Timestamp, Revisited
On the last entry, my Uncle Joe posted this comment:
You’ve changed a lot. More mature, more stable, more tolerant. 5 years back, you paid more attention to your appearance, now you care more about what you do, what you observe. Now you’re a bit sloppy :)…and I like that. Your spending habit is so much different.
I don’t know what caused all that…work experience? Parents’ divorce? Love life? Tai Chi and Taoism?
The causes of my changes were too big to cover in the small box, so I said I’d cover them in their own entry. Here goes.
Therapy
One of the significant things my therapist helped me with was the ability to not sweat the small stuff. It took a few thought records for me to realize that there are things out of my control. I used to be really moody, where if a small detail didn’t go right, I’d get really grumpy. Now that doesn’t anymore, although I do occasionally have to remind myself of this idea, as it’s not a completely natural reaction (yet). This is probably what Uncle Joe noticed as me being “sloppy”, as I’ve stopped worrying about things going wrong, so a bit more carefree when it comes to details. Even Bronwen said she’s noticed the change.
I also had intimacy issues, where I’d push my girlfriends away if they got too close. I’ve since learned to let someone in, even if it means it may hurt me in the end, and there’s a great comfort to be had in knowing this. In figuring out what went wrong, and being given the hope that my future relationships won’t end due to my old intimacy issues, which I’m sure was buried in my subconscious before.
Taoism
Taoism has given me the same rough mindset as therapy, in terms of letting go of the little things that don’t go my way. But it wasn’t just due to the fact that things are out of my control, but also the idea that things don’t really matter. I’m still working on other tenets, like spontaneity and wu wei, but what I’ve been able to understand and apply so far has helped a lot.
When I’m having a bad day, I can go to the Tao Te Ching, find a verse that’s appropriate to my situation, and for some reason my heart finds such contentment in the words. Perhaps it’s even more than the individual tenets, and the fact that I now have something to believe in that brings comfort, stability, and happiness. A non-religious opiate, if you will.
Relationships
Having been through two good relationships with two good people, especially with the memories I have now, has given me a lot of satisfaction. Sure, they may have ended, but I never thought I’d be in a good relationship, probably because of my childhood with my parents, along with confidence issues. I think some people go their whole lives without ever having the sort of love that I did, or being able to experience the same wonderfully intimate moments. This has given me a contentment I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.
Wong Tai Sin Temple
As a Taoist, I felt it was only natural that I visit the most famous Taoist temple in Hong Kong while here.
Maybe I was being naïve, but I was picturing something like Washington Square Park, except instead of chess board tables, there would be people sitting around, discussing Chuang Tzu’s parables, or sprightly conversations about the happiness of fish. Instead, it was more like a gigantic fortune-telling, wishing well extravaganza. People go there to worship Taoist deities by burning incense, praying to them for their wishes to come true, and have their fortunes told through the practice of kau cim, which is when they shake a container full of bamboo sticks until one falls out, and the character on the stick is interpreted by a soothsayer1.
It amazes me how vastly different the Taoist philosophy is from the religion. I couldn’t relate to any of this at all. The Taoists here are trying to get a holiday — on Lau Tzu’s birthday, if I understand correctly — because other religions get a day off. This strikes me as somewhat strange, since Lao Tzu is still disputed to be a mythical figure, with an unknown date of birth. I also have to wonder if Lao Tzu would approve of such a ritual.
At one point, there was an old lady worshiping at the entrance of a building, and a woman came out and said, “Ma’am, this is the information booth. You don’t need to worship us.” My uncle and I couldn’t stop laughing.
(This was a quiet day in the middle of the afternoon. Apparently, on special days of the Chinese lunar calendar, it’s packed, and the incense smoke too thick to breathe. Superstition has always been a part of the Chinese culture.)
- That’s the part of the video where the people are kneeling, and you can hear the bamboo shakers. It’s a short clip because I wasn’t allowed to film there. [↑]
Seasonal Cycle
It’s been snowing for three days now, the first real snowfall of the season. It’s a wonderful feeling to look outside and see it falling1. Winter brings it’s own sort of coziness, like the way sun is for sports and rain is for movies.
A lot of people don’t like the winter, whether it’s because they get tired shoveling, they’re late from cleaning the car, they don’t like dealing with the messiness, or they simply hate being cold. To me, it’s all part and parcel of living in the Great White North. The summer brings as many unpleasant issues — burning car seats, stifling heat, unavoidable sweat. I wouldn’t be able to appreciate one if it wasn’t for the other.
I tend to get tired of the weather only at the end of each season, because they seem to drag on for so long2. It’s a never-ending cycle of enjoying the new season, then missing the next one.
There’s this great poem by Shioh T’ao I think of when trying to explain this:
Spring comes, and I look at the birds;
Summer comes, and I take a bath in the stream;
Autumn comes, and I climb to the top of the mountain;
Winter comes, and I make the most of the sunlight for warmth.
This is how I savor the passage of the seasons.
My version would go something like this:
Spring comes, and I admire the blossoming feminine beauty;
Summer comes, and I go for a drive;
Autumn comes, and I fall in love with everything;
Winter comes, and I cherish the warmth.
This is how I savor the passage of the seasons.
This is why I love Canada. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
For now, I’m enjoying the snow.
Tai Chi/Taoism Paradoxes
Another correlation between the physical expression of Tai Chi and philosophical ideas of Taoism is the ubiquitous existence of paradoxes in both. There are contradictory answers to many questions, and at the same time, the answers are very simple (a paradox in itself).
An example from Tai Chi is the posture of the p’eng shape. If you’re too stiff, you can be pushed over easily. If you’re too relaxed, you can be collapsed easily. People make the mistake of thinking that you have to be one or the either — that you’re either resisting a force or letting it move you — without understanding that there exists a “somewhere in between”. It’s difficult to explain how something can be structured and relaxed at the same time.
A Taoist example is the idea of wu wei, or “action without action”. Practically speaking, it’s the concept that you don’t do anything that isn’t necessary, and by remaining reactionary you let nature (or the interaction of Heaven and Earth, as Taoists romantically say) run it’s course. In doing so, “nothing is done yet nothing is left undone”.
Last class, my teacher said “Tai Chi is easy, that’s why so few people do it well.” His words reminded me of verse 70 of the Tao Te Ching.
My teachings are very easy to understand
and very easy to teach
yet so few in this world understand
and so few are able to practice
The answers remain elusive and difficult to explain because they must be felt, as in Tai Chi, or experienced, as in Taoism, a characteristic of the paradoxical nature of both the ancient Chinese martial art and philosophy.
A Reason For All
The crooked become straight
The empty become full
The worn become new
Have little and gain much
Have much and be confused
So the Sage embraces the One and becomes a model for the world
—Verse 22, Tao Te Ching
Yesterday, I woke up from a nap at four in the afternoon. Usually, when I wake up from a long nap, I feel groggy and uneasy, but this time I was bright and rested.
When I went outside, the rain had stopped. It washed the bird poop off my windshield, it filled the air with the lingering scent of cleanliness. In my car, Becky started singing in the stereo.
I had You Broke My Heart by Lavender Diamond playing here
And every time she hit me with the words “cavalry of light” in her wavering vibrato, I had to sing at the top of my lungs along with her, my voice cracking, my dignity left behind me.
This morning, I was running late for work. But by the time I got to the car, the sun had been out long enough to warm the breeze. I could roll the windows down and let the air in. The traffic made me even more late, but it let me take my time too. It gave me the chance to enjoy Lenny crooning to me about how true love leaves no traces.
It’s like I’m waiting for something to go wrong, because I’m not used to things going this well. But nothing’s going wrong. Things are be working out. Everything has a reason, no matter how small or trivial.
Taoist theory says that surrender brings perfection. Don’t force anything. Allow things to happen, and they’ll naturally balance out. Perhaps I’m finally believing this, instead of simply understanding it.
When things are going badly, you’re not really behind.
You’re just waiting for the good that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.
Tattwo
Part of The Tao Tattoo Series
Concept
Some people ask me whether I feel more Chinese or Canadian. While some first-generation Canadians say that they’re neither, I feel like I’m both, because I appreciate and understand things from both cultures. I have the best of both worlds.
I already have a the hanzi character for “tao” on my right wrist, so I got the word “tao” on my left in English. This tattoo serves two purposes: as an expression of this dual heritage, and as another reminder for me to follow the tao.
The Operation
I went back to Jay at New Moon, who did an awesome job on my first tattoo. When I walked in, he had the latest Mars Volta album on, which I didn’t even know was out until that day. Most of the time was passed comparing them to Tool, two of our favourite bands1.
Can you tell when he’s going over my artery? (Hint: I start to swear)
Typography
The three-letter word is written in Avenir. As the Humanist, sans-serif typeface designed by Adrian Fruitiger (also used for the title and menu of this site), it’s my favourite font. Clean, sharp, minimalist, and legible. The most distinguishing part, as with most good fonts, is the double-story “a”, which increases legibility.
I had over a dozen variations, at different point sizes, kerning values, and weights. I wanted the weight, size, and position to balance with the one on my right wrist. In the end, I went with one that was 63.78 points, and the 35 “light” weight.
- Tool was a favourite until Lateralus came out, and I discovered Dream Theater. Ænima remains one of my top albums though. [↑]
Hold Fast
I was late for work this morning. The weather was beautiful on the drive in. There were thick, dark clouds hanging ominously in the distance and high in the sky, but the sun was out, bathing everything in brightness. The wind was refreshingly cool, so I had to roll the windows down.
In another weird phase lately. Hyper again. Currently feeling this part from verse 35 of the Tao Te Jing:
Hold fast to the Great Form within and let the world pass as it may
Then the changes of life will not bring pain but contentment, joy, and well-being
Sometimes, I feel like I’m being tested. It hasn’t really been going badly, but it’s certainly a mix of ups and downs, resolutions and frustrations.
I started to notice that I’ve been talking to myself when alone. Sometimes I laugh aloud too. I once read an article about a young man who did a solo transatlantic journey by boat that took several weeks, and he said that talking to yourself is normal; it’s when you start to answer your own questions that you should be worried. I think I’ll be alright.
I’ve come to accept the way things have turned out. I’ve felt this way before, but it never lasted more than a couple months, something that happens when I lose sight of the tao. Hopefully it won’t be so ephemeral this time. I just need to remember that things will continue to work out on their own. To stop trying to force things to happen. To breathe.
And to hold fast to the way that cannot be walked.
Psychoanalytic Reflections 03
My therapist is on vacation now. When he gets back, I’ll start to see him on a bi-monthly instead of weekly basis. At first he suggested that we slow down only once I get a handle on my anxiety, but when I explained that the sessions were putting me in a negative cash-flow scenario, he understood and agreed1.
- My depression is gone. Most likely, it was a side effect of my anxiety, or generalized anxiety disorder, which is mostly gone now.
- The root of this is from my habit of predicting negative outcomes and asking too many “what ifs”, which I’m still learning to control.
- There’s this idea of learned helplessness that I struggle with. The bigger issue is that when I feel helpless, I get depressed as a result, about things out of my control such as the weather.
- I love how the practical side of psychology falls in line with Taoism. In this case, I think of verse 29 of the Tao Te Ching:
Allow your life to unfold naturally
Know that it too is a vessel of perfection
Just as you breathe in and out
Sometimes you’re ahead and other times behind
Sometimes you’re strong and other times weak
Sometimes you’re with people and other times alone
To the Sage all of life is a movement toward perfection
- I love how the practical side of psychology falls in line with Taoism. In this case, I think of verse 29 of the Tao Te Ching:
- One issue I had a hard time understanding was my belief that attempting something is a waste of time if I don’t succeed. I suppose that it seems rather silly now that I think about it (such as avoiding getting in a relationship just for the fact that one may get hurt), but I spent an entire session on this subject alone. It’s a problem because I give up on certain things before I try, and lose important opportunities as a result.
- I’m starting to become more aware of my automatic thought patterns. I’d automatically avoid certain situations because they would give me anxiety, or predict how other people would react based on past experiences, without even realizing it. This is wrong.
- I was a little skeptical about the usefulness of thought records at first, but now that I’ve finished about a half-dozen, I notice a change in my thought process. Every time I get flustered, I think in my head of what I’ll write down later (simply because I don’t have time to write it in the moment) and just doing this helps a great deal.
- My therapist is a fan of Chappelle’s Show (which is generally considered to be a low-class and crude form of humour), because it breaks social barriers by making fun of stereotypes, thereby robbing them of their significance. This makes him the coolest middle-aged white guy ever, and makes me want to smoke a spliff with him.
- He also calls weed, “grass”, which is cute.
Psychoanalytic Reflections 01
It’s a full seven days between sessions, and at this point, my pschologist is just starting to know me. In between, I can never stop reflecting. I’ve always believed that I know myself well, but these sessions are probing ideas and memories I haven’t thought of in a while, and opening up completely new areas of reflection.
And while I could write for days about these thoughts and epiphanies, I simply don’t have the time, so I figured I’d briefly touch on them in point form.
- I need to respect my psychologist in order to accept help from him. i.e. If he was a Freudian and I was a Jungian, I wouldn’t be able to agree with any of his methods.
- I get very anxious when I’m in his office. This is because I don’t like to admit to myself that something’s wrong with me, but when I’m in there, it’s a very tangible reminder that I have mental problems.
- I’m very conflicted on several issues.
- I don’t want to lose my emotions because I need to suffer to create. Yet the emotions are bad enough that I don’t want to have them anymore (or have them in moderation at least).
- I want to love and be in a relationship, and at the same time I cling to being single because I’m scared of being hurt (in addition to the fact that the freedom is intoxicating). I do this by pushing others away from me or cutting them off.
- This stems from two significant childhood memories, where I felt betrayed in friendship, as well as my relationship with my parents.
- I want to be settled and have some stability (in terms of schedule, relationships, finances etc.), but the struggle to be settled is what makes me grow and be stronger.
- Many of these issues can only be resolved from decisions I should make. (i.e. No one else can make the decision for me)
- Turning to Taoism, which is very paradoxical in itself, has only helped so much.
- Without my creativity, or my desire to express myself, I’m nothing.
- I don’t want to “blame” my parents for confidence problems or perfectionist tendencies, but I’m slowly starting to find out that they’ve affected me even more than I thought before.
- As a hedonist, my greatest fear is losing my joie de vivre. If this happened (and it has once), I would consider killing myself. This is because the joys of life balance out all the bad and makes it worth living.
- I’m dependent on other people for happiness. I don’t see my friends often enough for me to be satisfied, and it’s a simple fact of life. They all have significant others, and I’m the only one left single. I don’t blame them for not spending enough time with me, but it makes me very sad.