What We Would Give

“I would eat less myself so that you may be full.” 

It’s much more poetic and beautiful spoken in Chinese.  My mom said these words to me as she pretreated a pile of clothes, ‘Asian squatting’ on the floor in front of the washer.  I was in middle school, perhaps.  We were talking casually about parents and children.  She always had, and continues to have, the most efficiently poignant ways to express how infinitely parents love their children—how much they are willing to sacrifice in service of their kids’ health, well-being, and success—all without any residue of shame, guilt, or obligation.  As a parent myself, I totally get it now.

“What I would(n’t) give for…”

When have you thought or uttered these words?  What was it for, a hot dog?  A drink of water?  Your loved one not to have cancer?  Reconciliation with and estranged friend?  An end to systemic racism?

What are we willing to give for what we really care about?  Where is the evidence in action for the values we profess? 

I’m listening to Barack Obama’s memoir, savoring it now in the last few hours.  What I really appreciate is the inside look at the rationale, the complexity, and the reality of policy making.  He explains why he chose to push certain policies through legislation rather than executive order, knowing it was the harder and politically higher risk path.  He describes the personal, relational, legal, and procedural struggles that made legislative losses so frustrating and wins so satisfying.  This was an easy ‘read’ because he is my hero.  I relate to his motivations and understand his rationale easily—I know him as a fellow tribe member.  Next I will attempt Mitch McConnell’s The Long Game, in an honest effort to see the other side’s perspective.  I will buckle down and grit my teeth, and try my best to listen with presence and openness… and also critical, respectful skepticism.

I want tell the story about our elected officials that they entered public life in pursuit of ideals greater than themselves, what Simon Sinek names ‘a just cause’.  According to Sinek a truly just cause is 1) for something—protagonistic and visionary; 2) inclusive—anybody can join; 3) service oriented—benefits others; 4) resilient—endures in the face of change; and 5) idealistic—impossible to actually achieve, but inspires us to pursue anyway.  I see pursuit of just causes so clearly in President Obama’s words and actions.  I have trouble with some others’.   I know many have the opposite experience—how fascinating!

I also want to tell the story that our politicians are people of integrity, who negotiate and compromise with both short term outcomes and long term strategy in mind, all in service of their just cause.  But even knowing that we citizens never see the whole picture, even giving them the benefit of the doubt, it’s a hard story to believe much of the time.  …So if it’s not a true story, what are we citizens willing to give to make it so?

When does compromise constitute hypocrisy?  When does calling out hypocrisy amount just to whining?  When is it better to let this one go and wait for next time, or to go for broke now, lest we miss our only opportunity?  How much are we willing to spend/invest/lose/fail/sacrifice, in order to achieve our ultimate goals?

What are we each really willing to give?  What does this tell us about our values?

And in the end, how will we be at peace with the consequences of our in/actions?

Comfort Food

“Rice Grandma”, fermented glutinous rice just like my own PoPo used to make, and in the background glutinous rice balls filled with black sesame paste. Both foods that bring me home.

What foods make you happy?  Why?

In Disney’s 2007 film “Ratatouille”, the hostile food critic experiences an existential transformation after his first bite of the unsophisticated but sentimental title dish.  His olfactory sense, the most primitive and tightly bound to long term memory of them all, triggers intense feelings of comfort, love, and security from childhood, when his mother served him ratatouille after he was hurt.

Sister and I bonded recently over the Asian food display at my local Costco.  We found the pork sausage that Ma used to use in her fried rice, and egg yolk pies that we can almost never find in stores, even in Chinatown.  When I gushed about it to a fellow East Asian friend, she pointed me to a new Chinese supermarket near me.  Daughter and I went exploring today.  …While I would not quite call my experience existential, it was intensely joyful, and our haul provided a unique satisfaction that moved me unexpectedly.  I found myself texting photos to my parents, wishing they could be with us, recalling the flavors, sounds, and memories of growing up Chinese in white, suburban America.

I learned early in childhood not to bring food from home for lunch at school.  Stares and disgusted facial expressions from classmates at the appearance or smell of my family’s cooking vaporized my appetite and made me unpleasantly self-conscious.  It’s okay though, because I loved hot lunches at school—it was stuff I never got at home—overcooked green beans, spaghetti and meatballs served with an oversized ice cream scooper, and chicken fried steak—I had no idea what it was, but it tasted great—so different!

Authentic Chinese food was enjoyed at home only, especially the really weird stuff like preserved or salted duck eggs, fermented bean curd, and dried pork sung.  Like most teens, I did not fully appreciate these foods at the time.  In college I got to explore Japanese, Indian, Middle Eastern, and Thai food, all new to my naïve palate.  But when I went home—when I go home still—Sunday mornings eating rice porridge with the small plates of colorful, multi-odorous, myriad-textured food really was (is!) comforting.  Daughter saw today how giddy it all made me, and it excites her to try these foods for herself.  Another generation bonded to cultural roots awaits its next awakening.  

One of my goals this year is to live much more mindfully.  This includes cooking more at home, and really appreciating and enjoying—savoring!—my food, rather than inhaling it while attending to a dozen other tasks or problems.  My Chinese grocery acquisitions these last few weeks excite me more than I anticipated.  Maybe I’ll start bringing leftovers for lunch again.

Paradoxes and Polarities

Moonset, Sylvan Dale Guest Ranch, Loveland, CO January 2020.
Photo by Karen Cornell, DVM, PhD, DACVS

NaBloPoMo 2020 – Today’s Lesson

The last NaBlo of 2020, hallelujah!  I do this for myself, but the views, likes, and comments are rewarding—so thank you all!

Every cloud has a silver lining; every light casts a shadow.

What paradoxes did you experience in 2020?  Here are mine:

  • Unearned vacation
  • Survivor’s guilt
  • Loss of control/autonomy of schedule
  • Loss of social activities/tightening of social bonds
  • Attention toward global humanitarian issues/Focus on intimate relationships
  • Disruption of usual routines/Return to fundamental patterns
  • Things are so bad/So much potential for good

Now some polarities I managed… What were yours?

  • Fear/Acceptance?  Curiosity?  Courage?
  • Self-care/Care for others
  • Doom scroll/Tune it all out
  • There’s nothing I can do, not my problem/I must do everything I can to help, it’s all up to me
  • I belong to this tribe/I reject this tribe
  • Think it through/Take action
  • Burn down the Patriarchy NOW/Culture change happens slowly
  • Intrinsic calling/Extrinsic conformity
  • I’m Awesome!/I will never be good enough
  • Inner peace/Outrage
  • Make sweeping delcarations/Qualify every statement

Wow.  That’s kind of a lot, and pretty complex.  And yet it’s so simple, so Zen

Life is an exercise in holding space—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and relationally—for all that feels like contradiction.  We are here to reconcile it all, to dig it up in order to smooth it out, to make peace in the morass, to turn manure into fertilizer.  The flexibility to hold mutually divergent ideas at the same time, and to move fluidly from one pole to its opposite and back again in dynamic balance—this is my most valuable lesson from this year.

In April I wrote about the best thing that could happen from this pandemic:  Connection.  It’s already happening, and I’m so grateful.  I’m also inspired, empowered, and ambitious for more. 

Can’t wait for 2021.