Desiderata (excerpt)
by Prof Lakshman Madurasinghe on 10/30/2010
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,even to the dull and ignorant;they too have their story. Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;you have a right to be here.And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life,keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.Be cheerful.Strive to be happy.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Gone From My Sight
by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout,
"Here she comes!"
by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout,
"Here she comes!"
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Your I-Will-Never List
By Nels P. Highberg
Today is the third anniversary of my mother's death. Her birthday was two days ago, so it's no surprise that this is always a difficult time of year for me. We were very close, and there are still moments when I can't believe she is no longer a living, breathing part of my life. I will never be able to call her on Saturdays like I used to do, and I will never see her when I fly to my hometown in Texas for the holidays.
It might seem detrimental to focus on things that will never happen, and that would be true if it were all I focused on. There is value, though, in taking a moment to think of what we can never do. I'm not sure where I first heard of the "I Will Never" list. It was probably from someone's blog or Twitter feed, but I can't remember whose. I do remember reading about it quickly last summer and then not thinking much about it until one afternoon this past March when I was sitting at the Astor Place Starbucks in New York City with my paper journal and a few hours to sit, think, and write.Before I get into that afternoon of journaling, let me say what the list is all about. Many of us take the occasional moment now and then to wallow in self-pity, whining about the things that we can't or won't do, especially as we get older. Those fantasies we had in high school of traveling the world or becoming a famous movie star or living in a penthouse in Paris every summer turn out to be only fantasies. In our weakest moments, some of us let that reality get us down. I'm sure we all know people who seem to do nothing but complain about what they haven't done or can't do. Hidden underneath these things we probably will never do are a whole raft of other things that we could do if we just took a moment to recognize them. That's the point of the list. You write down the five, six, or ten things you will never do. Then, you follow them with a list of related things you can do. Instead of approaching life through an all-or-nothing mentality that tells us the inability to reach our dreams means we should abandon any related activity, this list is supposed to expose us to the things that are possible. Instead of centering our lives on what we can't do, we start to center them on what we can do.There are several things I noted in my journal that afternoon in New York City. I will never complete an Ironman Triathlon. But I could make the effort to complete a local triathlon. Or half-marathon. Or 5K. Or just make consistent visits to the gym. I will never have a solo show of my photography at any of my favorite Chelsea art galleries. But I could make the effort to submit my work to various group shows around the country. Or to different magazines or literary journals. Or just post a daily photo to my Flickr account. I will never fly around the world in one summer. But I could travel internationally every few years. Or visit every state in the United States throughout my life. Or just stop and pay more attention to local spots I normally ignore in my daily drives to and from campus.
I will never hug my mother again. Or my grandmother. Or my first partner. Or my best friend from college. But I will remember them. And write about them. And be grateful for the time I had with them. And I will continue living my life as the person they loved and taught me to be.What will you never do? And what can you still do about it?
By Nels P. Highberg
Today is the third anniversary of my mother's death. Her birthday was two days ago, so it's no surprise that this is always a difficult time of year for me. We were very close, and there are still moments when I can't believe she is no longer a living, breathing part of my life. I will never be able to call her on Saturdays like I used to do, and I will never see her when I fly to my hometown in Texas for the holidays.
It might seem detrimental to focus on things that will never happen, and that would be true if it were all I focused on. There is value, though, in taking a moment to think of what we can never do. I'm not sure where I first heard of the "I Will Never" list. It was probably from someone's blog or Twitter feed, but I can't remember whose. I do remember reading about it quickly last summer and then not thinking much about it until one afternoon this past March when I was sitting at the Astor Place Starbucks in New York City with my paper journal and a few hours to sit, think, and write.Before I get into that afternoon of journaling, let me say what the list is all about. Many of us take the occasional moment now and then to wallow in self-pity, whining about the things that we can't or won't do, especially as we get older. Those fantasies we had in high school of traveling the world or becoming a famous movie star or living in a penthouse in Paris every summer turn out to be only fantasies. In our weakest moments, some of us let that reality get us down. I'm sure we all know people who seem to do nothing but complain about what they haven't done or can't do. Hidden underneath these things we probably will never do are a whole raft of other things that we could do if we just took a moment to recognize them. That's the point of the list. You write down the five, six, or ten things you will never do. Then, you follow them with a list of related things you can do. Instead of approaching life through an all-or-nothing mentality that tells us the inability to reach our dreams means we should abandon any related activity, this list is supposed to expose us to the things that are possible. Instead of centering our lives on what we can't do, we start to center them on what we can do.There are several things I noted in my journal that afternoon in New York City. I will never complete an Ironman Triathlon. But I could make the effort to complete a local triathlon. Or half-marathon. Or 5K. Or just make consistent visits to the gym. I will never have a solo show of my photography at any of my favorite Chelsea art galleries. But I could make the effort to submit my work to various group shows around the country. Or to different magazines or literary journals. Or just post a daily photo to my Flickr account. I will never fly around the world in one summer. But I could travel internationally every few years. Or visit every state in the United States throughout my life. Or just stop and pay more attention to local spots I normally ignore in my daily drives to and from campus.
I will never hug my mother again. Or my grandmother. Or my first partner. Or my best friend from college. But I will remember them. And write about them. And be grateful for the time I had with them. And I will continue living my life as the person they loved and taught me to be.What will you never do? And what can you still do about it?
Saturday, June 26, 2010
My Beautiful Mother
My Beautiful Mother 11/2/1927--9/11/2009 Beloved wife-mother-grandmother, WWII and Chinese Civil War survivor, special ed teacher, artist, hard hard worker, wonderful cook, gardener, Majon partner, smiley face, silly goose, sunrise watcher, listener, good friend, peace maker, sampler of simple pleasures. Full of love and affection for all. Happy from within. Always amazed by and thankful for her good fortunes in life. Mom we love you forever.
This picture was snapped at the Taipei airport on that July day in 2009 when we left for home after visiting Taipei for 5 days. Mom was not going to the airport but at the last minute she decided to go and see us off. She felt better that day. I said: hey guys take a picture with Weipou ( grandma in Mandarin) . And they bent and put their faces next to their grandma's. Mom smiled. It was the last time I saw her awake.
Woman In the Painting
Woman In the Painting
Wednesday, December 16, 2009 at 11:36pm
Wednesday, December 16, 2009 at 11:36pm
82 years ago--1927, the year of the rabbit---my mom was born on November 2 on the lunar calendar, which falls on December 17 on the solar calendar this year.
I stood gazing at this painting mom had done in early 90s after her retirement. There is a beautiful young woman sitting leisurely under the banana tree, a fan in one hand, waiting or resting? What's on her mind? And what went through mom's mind when she drew this? Mom never talked about her work. She enjoyed her art as quietly as she endured hardship.
There was nothing leisurely about mom's life before her retirement. Like millions back in those days she grew up in war torn China, suffered deathly losses ( her mother and brother), and had to flee the Communists from Mainland to the island of Taiwan in 1949. There she settled down to life with dad a military man, raising four children in the military village. She worked full time as a teacher; walked most days to open air markets to get groceries for the family of six. She fanned the little coal stove to cook and hand washed all laundry. I still remember the excitement over our first ice box cooled by huge chunks of ice delivered to our door, and the first black and white TV. Mom sewed most of our clothes and raised chickens in the small yard for eggs and meat.
Mom has been gone three months now, or maybe I should say her life was "completed" three months ago. I say this because she was very happy and satisfied with her life. I wonder if the woman in the painting feels the same way.
Longevity Noodles--A birthday Tradition
Longevity Noodles--A Birthday Tradition
Monday, November 23, 2009 at 9:46pm
Monday, November 23, 2009 at 9:46pm
Ever since I could remember, mom and dad always made noodles to celebrate birthdays in our house. Longevity noodles we called it. There were no parties and no presents most of the time due to very limited finances. The birthday girl or boy got a hard boiled egg in his or her noodle bowl. I almost forgot about the cake. Well, there was no cake because where would we get one?
Year after year we looked forward to longevity noodles on our birthdays, with the boiled egg in the bowl. It is hard to believe, by today’s standards, that we never felt poor or deprived. We were perfectly happy with the noodle dish mom and dad prepared especially for our special day.
This is how to make it. First, stir fry some ground meat with chopped garlic, ginger, and green onions. Then add in chopped Napa cabbage, shitake mushrooms, and enough water to make a soup. Just as the soup comes to a boil, add scrambled raw eggs into the boiling soup and turn off the stove. Stir the egg to make egg drops. Season with salt and pepper, and add cooked noodles after sprinkling a few drops of sesame oil. I still request this dish each year for my birthday, in addition to gifts, cake, and flowers.
What is on my mind right now is the big TG dinner for 14 people in our house. But I am aware that the next birthday is approaching quietly as well. This year, I will have to grow up. And make the noodles myself. On a quieter day.
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