June! With a month remaining in my China adventure, I’m trying to take stock of what has made this season special, those things that have defined my time here. There are many places I could begin. Something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately has more to do with my own transformation. I think a good way to articulate this is: learning to be rooted. Or grounded. Or confident and secure.
I like the imagery of rootedness. It conjures up a picture for me of something that, despite wind and weather and human hands, does not easily budge from its place. Yet at the same time it’s not so set in its “trajectory” that it can’t be influenced by its surroundings. By being malleable and open to influence, a plant can be redirected and altered. But it remains in the ground, nourished by soil and water, not thrown into chaos due to the forces swirling around it.
I guess I’m creating two metaphors out of this image, and the connection with "belief" is not really my point here. That is, the importance of being rooted in beliefs while being open to having those beliefs—especially their practical application—shaped by our environment and adjusted. We may know our identity as a plant but might not know how to actually BE a plant. Literally, we may believe in something but not know exactly how to manifest those beliefs into every context we find ourselves in.
We need help from others, I think. We need to be able to say, “here is what I believe about purpose, human nature, what is right and good. Can you help me figure out how to live my beliefs?” I think that is a part of what interfaith dialogue entails. It means grasping firmly to our beliefs—at least admitting we believe SOMETHING more than we believe something else—but looking around for help as to how to live out those beliefs.
We ask people who are different than us: “what do you need? How do people in your culture experience love? What is beautiful to you? What causes you pain? How do you understand the ‘good life?’ What draws you to the worldview you have? When you observe me, how might I be captive to my own cultural worldview? How do you think humans can make the world better?”
Or even, “I am (such-and-such religion or political ideology); how do you think I can more fully and effectively and faithfully live out my mission?” Dialogue means getting help from others, and dropping the assumption that others have no help to give. I think we shouldn’t be afraid of opening ourselves up to the assistance of others—especially if we are truly “rooted.” We should have no fear.
But alas, as I said, this is not my main concern here. And the metaphor is imperfect, anyway. We may very well THINK we are rooted in something good and true but actually be so misguided that we actually NEED to be uprooted and re-planted in soil that is more life-giving…or, closer to the truth, closer to the way things really are. I might be a Christian and be confident in what I believe but be missing the mark in some ways and thus holding tightly to a version of Christianity that has diverged a bit from the intentions of its initiator. Maybe a little uprooting is called for.
But I’m thinking more of rootedness in terms of having a sense of peace about who I am and not being overly influenced by the way it seems others respond to me. It’s so easy to be caught up in how I’m being perceived, in the opinions of others, in how my words and actions are affecting others. China has been such a good challenge in not understanding my identity as based on the way others favorably or dis-favorably respond to me.
I’m not sure if this makes total sense and if I’m not indulging a bit here in over-reflection. But maybe some of you can relate to that frantic feeling that comes when you’re thinking about how others perceive you. Me, I get reactive. Maybe the annoying thing is that I’m self-aware enough that I know when I get reactive and it drives me crazy, because I should be further along in this journey of spiritual formation than I am.
I don’t think God’s grace entitles us to simply repeatedly apologize to God for our mistakes because we’re not ever going to get any better. I think God’s grace should inspire us toward transformation, becoming a different kind of person than we were a day ago, or a decade ago. I don’t like “God’s grace” being used as an excuse to be unwilling to be changed and renewed into something that resembles Jesus maybe a bit more than before.
What do I mean in practice by the need to be rooted? At times when Chinese people are talking about me, laughing at me, staring at me, or even just obviously too shy to talk to me, I can feel that initial concern: “what are they thinking about me? What are they saying? Don’t they know how rude they are?” It’s like my first reaction is negative; I assume the worst. I think it's because I feel threatened. Because I’m not as “rooted” as I should be.
I don’t always respond out of a place of peace, a peace that enables me to respond with love and gratitude, to see other people not as threats to my self-worth, but as people who are beautiful, people who have their own concerns and issues and whose top priority is not really me. Sometimes I feel like while I might outwardly smile back I feel inwardly annoyed by these interactions. To be fair, sometimes I think I “pass” the test, and can accept these moments in life with grace, rather than reactivity.
I guess that’s what I mean by being rooted. But there are other ways this plays out. Like when I express an opinion I have about something, and find that another disagrees. What should be an opportunity to learn something new—as I’ve preached above—becomes more about how I feel like maybe I don’t know what the heck I’m talking about and maybe my opinions aren’t legitimate…or, how can I rephrase it and backtrack so I can save face and look better? Or how can I win the argument? Rooted: welcoming disagreement as an opportunity to grow, not putting up walls against others.
Rooted. In China, no one understands me as deeply as I’d like to be understood. The cultural and language barriers are simply too strong. Actually, none of my friends and family, not even my fiancée, who probably understands me better than anyone, understands me as much as I’d like. That’s not their fault, nor mine, really.
But instead of despairing about this, I think being rooted means finding what I’m looking for from somewhere else, so that I don’t place unrealistic expectations on the people around me. For me, I think that’s God—believing that God’s knowledge of and empathy for the intricacies of “me” is enough. It also means relishing those moments when I AM understood by those I care about, giving them grace when they don’t, and having the patience and tenacity to make myself understood.
Rooted. I’ve been shown a lot of kindness and hospitality by the people I’ve met in China. I can’t say that enough. But there are inevitably moments where the attention or affection I’d hope for from those I give my attention and affection to is not returned. Some of it’s probably immaturity on the part of my students. They’re young, and they just take my kindness and devotion to them for granted, or have their own concerns and insecurities that disable them from whatever ideal response it is I'm looking for.
But that definitely does not apply to all of my students. And some of it’s probably shyness. They don’t know how to respond accordingly in a way that shows they care and like me because they are timid and are afraid to look silly. Some of it is probably cultural, and more my fault for missing their gratitude when they display it.
I think my whole life will be a journey of increasingly learning how to love. Living in China has only contributed to this journey, as I have to constantly return to my “roots” and remember that the kind of love I want to give to others is a love that loves without judgment, without expectations of reciprocity, without pushiness. Feeling blue because some students keep themselves at a distance from me—whatever their reasons may be—or because they make a comment, or give a look that feels unkind is not a state of emotion I want to stay in for long. I want to be able to shake things off, to respond to un-lovingness with more love, to not let a lack of positive affirmation stop me from loving. (Gosh...maybe I'm ready to be a parent.)
I think all that is a part of being rooted. Almost like an ability to kind of float through life unfazed when we feel like our actions, good intentions, or personality/self are not noticed, affirmed, and celebrated in the way we’d like, and to trust that Love is so powerful and wonderful that there’s nothing so worthwhile as giving more and more love, trusting that the “fruits of our labors” will eventually manifest themselves even if we don’t see them. And that at the very least—if you share my views on such matters—that God is pleased that we are living out our design and will not forget our efforts.
So thank you China for such life lessons, lessons that I’ve been learning for some time and will continue to learn long after I leave. You and your people have been so good to me.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
More Spring Pictures!
I posted some pics of the sports competition a couple weeks back, but here are some glimpses of what else I've been up to in recent weeks:
Strawberry picking with Janet, Sarah, and David (sophomore students). I seem to be pleased with my find here.
David trying to teach me how to "pop," a kind of hip-hop dance that is enormously popular here.
An outdoor concert I was invited to put on by the "music association" (as they call themselves) on campus. There was a program of performers, but as I expected from past experience, I was asked to perform last minute. I borrowed a guitar and after jokingly playing the first two lines of "Kan Guo Lai," a popular Chinese song we teachers performed back in September, I played "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" (Death Cab) and "Where the Streets Have no Name" (U2). I heard a couple faint voices plead for "My Heart Will Go On" but I was able to finagle my way out of playing that.
A shot of a wedding I attended a few weeks back of my friend Christina's (Chen Ying) brother. Unlike a typical American wedding, with a rather tame ceremony and lively reception, the ceremony was much more of a party. The lighting was unique, the officiator/minister was more like an MC trying to enliven the guests, people sat at tables instead of in rows while eating and drinking (a lot), kids had little noise-maker devices...VERY different atmosphere. Christina's family was honored at my presence. One bizarre occurrence...the bride was in tears after the wedding, seemingly kind of freaked out about her impending new life. But as I found out later, this is tradition. The bride is supposed to cry after the wedding, I guess symbolizing the painful separation from her family. But also, she's moving in with her new husband's family, and their "honeymoon" will take place in the bedroom adjacent to his parent's bedroom. No offense to any of my or Joann's family...but I'd be freaked out too if I were her.
Teaching my students how to play Uno in Wuhan. We had a three-day weekend for China's "Labor Day" and several of us met up here at Mr Mais (think I've mentioned this place before), with some Wuhan friends of mine joining us as well. I look like I'm not messing around in this picture.
A shot of some of the gang outside of Mr Mai's. From L to R: Alex, Catherine, Cary (he's not my student but one of my friend Marilyn's students in Wuhan), Anna, Katie, Grace, Sophia. Or, if you prefer, now that I've finally learned their Chinese names: Zhang Zheng, Zhou Ting, Cary (don't know his name), Pan Xing Ru, Hu Pei, Guan Yue Zhu, Wang Pian.
I threw a dinner party for my freshman students...meaning, they prepared nearly everything, with most students preparing at least one dish (I did contribute one "Chinese dish" which I don't think they thought was all that Chinese). It's fun to observe how much more comfortable and relaxed we all are with one another, compared to the beginning of the school year.
My "pets." I've had the pleasure of watching the whole process of these baby birds being born, from several weeks ago when mama bird starting gathering twigs to prepare this nest. That took a while in itself, before the bird actually began to hang out there more, outside the window on the less windy side of my sixth story apartment. Over time I saw one, then two eggs total. No kidding, every day I've checked to see their progress, and it's become as much a part of my routine as my morning cup of coffee. I discovered they'd been born a few days ago, though they've probably been alive longer but just hidden from view by their mother, perched on top of them. This was taken three days ago. It's been fun to enjoy a process so delicate, deliberate, unhurried. In sadder, this-is-the-way-of-things news, I checked this morning...and they're gone. The nest is empty.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Things I WON'T Miss About China
As this season of my life begins to wind down (or speed up to a sprint), I’m trying to think more intentionally about how to spend my time well, how to be fully present in my work and relationships, how to end well. Though, I imagine this “end” is only the closing of one aspect of my relationship with China—my time as a teacher at this college in Xiaogan with this particular community of people.
I anticipate it is the just beginning of many relationships formed here (especially with the ability to stay connected through current and still-developing technology) and likely the beginning of my relationship with the country and culture as a whole, though I can’t articulate what that relationship will look like yet.
In blogging I’ve mostly written with gratitude, reflecting on the good and beautiful I’ve experienced here. I’ve been critical at times, but that’s been mostly overshadowed by writing with a kind of optimism and intrigue about everything. And, well, that’s just kind of me, and when I force myself to write about it and share it with others, I’m challenged to keep my eyes open to see this goodness and beauty, which is overwhelming and obvious if my eyes are indeed open to see it and my heart open to receive it.
And I’ll probably have more to say in the coming weeks about what I’ll miss about my time here. BUT…I thought it fair or at least worthwhile to consider and share some of those things I don’t necessarily think I’ll miss all that much when I leave. Time for a little negativity for a change… :)
DRIVERS. I haven’t driven a car since I came to China, and I have no desire to. Chinese drivers are not necessarily bad drivers…but they’re chaotic drivers. I’ve had so many close calls while riding on buses and in taxis. Actually, I was riding in a sort of rickshaw with a few students back when I was traveling in February, and a car rammed into the back edge of our cart, nearly tipping us over. I was a little shaken up, and a little amused. (We got out of the rickshaw and didn't pay our driver, though he didn’t ask for money.)
Traffic lanes are “guidelines” here, not rules, and drivers unhesitatingly drive on the wrong side of the road for several seconds at a time, weaving in and out of lanes. I would not know what I was doing if I was driving. But they do seem to know what they’re doing, as I’ve maybe seen only one or two accidents in all my time here. Still…I don’t like the chaos and numerous close calls.
LINES. Related to above, lines are a bit chaotic. Some people respect the order of a line, but many do not. People really like to push their way to the front, and are often very strategic and sneaky about the way they get in front of one another. Chinese lines are not for the passive. And it seems almost expected, like if I’m going to hold my ground in line I need to be a bit aggressive. But I’m naturally not, and often times now when I see someone trying to cut, I’ll either glare at them for a while, or hold up my hand and say “whoa!” Sometimes they get the hint.
Actually, the checker at the vegetable stand at the local supermarket knows this annoys me. Just last week I was waiting patiently for her to weigh and price my green peppers and broccoli when an elderly woman and a slightly larger man swooped in. But before I could make some kind of grunt of dissatisfaction, the checker saw me, recognized me (obviously), and weighed my vegetables first. Nice to have her on my side. :)
HONKING. Drivers are very liberal with their horn use here. In America, if someone honks their horn at you whether you are driving or walking, it’s usually because they’re annoyed with you. But in China, drivers constantly warn each other when—by my judgment—such a warning is not needed. And I startle VERY easy, so when I’m walking and not at all in the way of the path of a driver, but he thinks I am or that I might soon enter his path, even if I can hear him coming, he’ll honk. And I jump. And get annoyed. And then get annoyed with myself for getting annoyed at him.
SPITTING. Men and women over the age of forty or so are constantly hacking up stuff and spitting, often making it known a city block away when they’re doing it. Sometimes they even do it indoors and on buses, spitting on the floor. It’s gross. Fortunately my students think so too, so hopefully they won’t go down that path and become spitters when they are older.
LITTER. The streets are really filthy around here, as most people (but not all) don’t think twice about throwing their garbage on the ground, even indoors at times. Generally speaking, the people in Xioagan are pretty bad litterers. I suppose the one positive of this is that it creates a lot of jobs, as the city hires workers (for cheap) to walk around constantly and clean the streets, way more so than I’ve ever seen in America. So perhaps every piece of trash I throw on the ground creates jobs and feeds families; gosh, maybe I should reconsider my stance on littering.
SMOKING. Smoking is not prohibited indoors here, and smoking is also much cooler among college boys here than in America (never seen a girl or woman smoking here). I don’t care much for breathing in second hand smoke, nor do I like having to wash my clothes after being around smokers.
THE ATTENTION. This is a tricky one. This may be surprising to some, but I get tired of the attention here. I certainly love and appreciate that people want to be my friend and often want to help me in some way, and I do cherish all of my friends here. But even for someone like me with the kind of personality and wiring that seems to welcome attention, sometimes I really just long to be obscure…to walk down the street and not have everyone looking at me in a way that makes me feel more like a novelty than a person, more an “it” than a “he.”
Sometimes I just smile and consider it sweet when girls giggle at me and boys shyly smile and laugh with one another when they see me. I know it’s not mean-spirited. But sometimes it wears on me and I just want to shout at people. But I don’t, because, well…I’m usually nicer than that. But obscurity has never sounded so nice—to not be noticed by anyone other than those who really know and appreciate me, as many of my students/friends here do. But who knows…maybe I’ll come back to America and walk down the street and wonder why everyone’s not looking at me and start feeling really needy and long for the attention of China. I sure hope not.
18-21 YEAR-OLD RELATIONSHIPS. It seems like there’s a pretty common formula for many of the couples I see here: the pouty girl and the pushy guy. Nearly all of my students are single or have boyfriends/girlfriends back home and not here, so those I observe in passing are students I don’t really know. But I see the routine all the time. Guys act a bit forceful with girls, and the girls play the role of pouty “I-don’t-wanna!” girl, which makes the guys all the more “do-my-will!”-like in their interactions. It use to just be the guys that annoyed me and made me want to go get in their face and tell them how to properly treat women, although one of my fellow female teachers rightly pointed out that the girls don’t really help with their silly attitude. Ugh. So obnoxious. And unhealthy.
THE AIR. The air is just pretty dirty here in Xiaogan (and worse in Wuhan) and I rarely see blue sky even on warm days, because of the cloudy haze of smog (though it’s glorious when I do see blue). While China seems to be working hard at alternative energy, it’s also pretty polluted, which I’ve heard attributed to China’s rapid economic development…as if China kind of progressed faster than its environment was prepared for.
THE LACK OF A STARBUCKS. Sometimes an Americano sounds lovely, though I do get one about once a month when I go into Wuhan. And for that matter, I won’t miss the lack of many edible items I take for granted in America. I really do enjoy Chinese food, and feel like my diet here might be healthier than in America. But sometimes I just wish for a burrito from Chipotle, a slice of pizza from Old Town Pizza, an oversize cheeseburger from Deschutes Brewery, or a pint from Mcmenamins. I have a feeling re-entering America will have a similar effect on my weight as the typical freshman at college.
DISTANCE FROM LOVED ONES. Obviously. It’s hard, no doubt, though the joy that comes from making new friends and feeling valued here makes the distance from home bearable.
I don’t imagine I’ll miss any of these things. Then again, while I don’t look favorably on the abovementioned facets of life in China, they could become more endearing than unpleasant in a few months as I nostalgically look back on my time here. I’m open to that.
But, nah, they probably won’t.
I anticipate it is the just beginning of many relationships formed here (especially with the ability to stay connected through current and still-developing technology) and likely the beginning of my relationship with the country and culture as a whole, though I can’t articulate what that relationship will look like yet.
In blogging I’ve mostly written with gratitude, reflecting on the good and beautiful I’ve experienced here. I’ve been critical at times, but that’s been mostly overshadowed by writing with a kind of optimism and intrigue about everything. And, well, that’s just kind of me, and when I force myself to write about it and share it with others, I’m challenged to keep my eyes open to see this goodness and beauty, which is overwhelming and obvious if my eyes are indeed open to see it and my heart open to receive it.
And I’ll probably have more to say in the coming weeks about what I’ll miss about my time here. BUT…I thought it fair or at least worthwhile to consider and share some of those things I don’t necessarily think I’ll miss all that much when I leave. Time for a little negativity for a change… :)
DRIVERS. I haven’t driven a car since I came to China, and I have no desire to. Chinese drivers are not necessarily bad drivers…but they’re chaotic drivers. I’ve had so many close calls while riding on buses and in taxis. Actually, I was riding in a sort of rickshaw with a few students back when I was traveling in February, and a car rammed into the back edge of our cart, nearly tipping us over. I was a little shaken up, and a little amused. (We got out of the rickshaw and didn't pay our driver, though he didn’t ask for money.)
Traffic lanes are “guidelines” here, not rules, and drivers unhesitatingly drive on the wrong side of the road for several seconds at a time, weaving in and out of lanes. I would not know what I was doing if I was driving. But they do seem to know what they’re doing, as I’ve maybe seen only one or two accidents in all my time here. Still…I don’t like the chaos and numerous close calls.
LINES. Related to above, lines are a bit chaotic. Some people respect the order of a line, but many do not. People really like to push their way to the front, and are often very strategic and sneaky about the way they get in front of one another. Chinese lines are not for the passive. And it seems almost expected, like if I’m going to hold my ground in line I need to be a bit aggressive. But I’m naturally not, and often times now when I see someone trying to cut, I’ll either glare at them for a while, or hold up my hand and say “whoa!” Sometimes they get the hint.
Actually, the checker at the vegetable stand at the local supermarket knows this annoys me. Just last week I was waiting patiently for her to weigh and price my green peppers and broccoli when an elderly woman and a slightly larger man swooped in. But before I could make some kind of grunt of dissatisfaction, the checker saw me, recognized me (obviously), and weighed my vegetables first. Nice to have her on my side. :)
HONKING. Drivers are very liberal with their horn use here. In America, if someone honks their horn at you whether you are driving or walking, it’s usually because they’re annoyed with you. But in China, drivers constantly warn each other when—by my judgment—such a warning is not needed. And I startle VERY easy, so when I’m walking and not at all in the way of the path of a driver, but he thinks I am or that I might soon enter his path, even if I can hear him coming, he’ll honk. And I jump. And get annoyed. And then get annoyed with myself for getting annoyed at him.
SPITTING. Men and women over the age of forty or so are constantly hacking up stuff and spitting, often making it known a city block away when they’re doing it. Sometimes they even do it indoors and on buses, spitting on the floor. It’s gross. Fortunately my students think so too, so hopefully they won’t go down that path and become spitters when they are older.
LITTER. The streets are really filthy around here, as most people (but not all) don’t think twice about throwing their garbage on the ground, even indoors at times. Generally speaking, the people in Xioagan are pretty bad litterers. I suppose the one positive of this is that it creates a lot of jobs, as the city hires workers (for cheap) to walk around constantly and clean the streets, way more so than I’ve ever seen in America. So perhaps every piece of trash I throw on the ground creates jobs and feeds families; gosh, maybe I should reconsider my stance on littering.
SMOKING. Smoking is not prohibited indoors here, and smoking is also much cooler among college boys here than in America (never seen a girl or woman smoking here). I don’t care much for breathing in second hand smoke, nor do I like having to wash my clothes after being around smokers.
THE ATTENTION. This is a tricky one. This may be surprising to some, but I get tired of the attention here. I certainly love and appreciate that people want to be my friend and often want to help me in some way, and I do cherish all of my friends here. But even for someone like me with the kind of personality and wiring that seems to welcome attention, sometimes I really just long to be obscure…to walk down the street and not have everyone looking at me in a way that makes me feel more like a novelty than a person, more an “it” than a “he.”
Sometimes I just smile and consider it sweet when girls giggle at me and boys shyly smile and laugh with one another when they see me. I know it’s not mean-spirited. But sometimes it wears on me and I just want to shout at people. But I don’t, because, well…I’m usually nicer than that. But obscurity has never sounded so nice—to not be noticed by anyone other than those who really know and appreciate me, as many of my students/friends here do. But who knows…maybe I’ll come back to America and walk down the street and wonder why everyone’s not looking at me and start feeling really needy and long for the attention of China. I sure hope not.
18-21 YEAR-OLD RELATIONSHIPS. It seems like there’s a pretty common formula for many of the couples I see here: the pouty girl and the pushy guy. Nearly all of my students are single or have boyfriends/girlfriends back home and not here, so those I observe in passing are students I don’t really know. But I see the routine all the time. Guys act a bit forceful with girls, and the girls play the role of pouty “I-don’t-wanna!” girl, which makes the guys all the more “do-my-will!”-like in their interactions. It use to just be the guys that annoyed me and made me want to go get in their face and tell them how to properly treat women, although one of my fellow female teachers rightly pointed out that the girls don’t really help with their silly attitude. Ugh. So obnoxious. And unhealthy.
THE AIR. The air is just pretty dirty here in Xiaogan (and worse in Wuhan) and I rarely see blue sky even on warm days, because of the cloudy haze of smog (though it’s glorious when I do see blue). While China seems to be working hard at alternative energy, it’s also pretty polluted, which I’ve heard attributed to China’s rapid economic development…as if China kind of progressed faster than its environment was prepared for.
THE LACK OF A STARBUCKS. Sometimes an Americano sounds lovely, though I do get one about once a month when I go into Wuhan. And for that matter, I won’t miss the lack of many edible items I take for granted in America. I really do enjoy Chinese food, and feel like my diet here might be healthier than in America. But sometimes I just wish for a burrito from Chipotle, a slice of pizza from Old Town Pizza, an oversize cheeseburger from Deschutes Brewery, or a pint from Mcmenamins. I have a feeling re-entering America will have a similar effect on my weight as the typical freshman at college.
DISTANCE FROM LOVED ONES. Obviously. It’s hard, no doubt, though the joy that comes from making new friends and feeling valued here makes the distance from home bearable.
I don’t imagine I’ll miss any of these things. Then again, while I don’t look favorably on the abovementioned facets of life in China, they could become more endearing than unpleasant in a few months as I nostalgically look back on my time here. I’m open to that.
But, nah, they probably won’t.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sports Competition!
This past weekend was the school's annual sports competition, consisting primarily of track and field events. Each department competes against one another, and the whole thing is taken very seriously. So much so that departments will call former students to come back to help increase their chances of winning, as a lot of pride and honor is at stake. It is mainly for students, though teachers compete as well (against one another, not against students). I, of course, represented the Foreign Language Department, who I believe was either last place or pretty close to last place overall, as is usual...we are a small department, and relatively unathletic.
I took on the role of encourager, trying to show people that you can have fun without winning, as well as the role of buffoon, making people laugh as often as possible with my theatrics. The event lasted two days--Friday and Saturday--which were some of the most gorgeous days we've had in some time. It was fun, but also a really special time with many of my students--being silly, discussing both serious and light topics, and enjoying a much-needed break from studies for students who seem to be worked very hard.
From the opening ceremonies.
I am no longer Matt. I am simply a number.
From the 100 meter dash. This is admittedly posed (if it wasn't obvious), due to photographer error during the actual race. I got fourth out of eight (20-35 age bracket). I kind of expected to be last, so I was thrilled.
The 4x100 relay, final leg. I may see if I can get my hair to do that all the time, not just when I'm sprinting.
Our 4x100 relay team. I think we were third place (out of four)...not great, though this was my favorite event (to participate in and to watch).
Long jump. Actually, this was just for fun, as I did not compete in the event.
Shot put. I got third place out of eight! Happy with that.
The sack race. Despite an early lead, this one did not go so well for me, as the picture indicates. Got a bit scratched up from that fall.
Some of my students competing in various events.
From a post-competition, mini-photo shoot with some of my friends/students.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Exciting times...
Huge news, news even more exciting (and distracting) than the start of Mariners baseball after a long offseason of anticipation.
It's actually probably old news now...but my unofficial engagement to my unofficial fiancée, Joann, is the real “distraction” of late. The not only sustaining but deepening of our relationship over my nearly eight months in China has been a rich process, the challenges of it overshadowed by the joys of sharing life with Joann these past months, despite a literal ocean between us.
I think our relationship is a testimony to a lot of things—God’s providence, the value of real friendship preceding romance, the longsuffering of two people willing to stick out a long-distance relationship for so long, and of course—Skype. I would not be getting married this summer were it not for the technology of video chatting. So thank you God, or Alexander Graham Bell, or Bill Gates, or Al Gore, or whoever I’m supposed to thank.
“Unofficial.” I (we) wanted to save the formal proposal for face-to-face after my return on July 1 but didn’t think that would allow us time to pull off a summer wedding. So on April Fool’s Day (of all days), I sat cross-legged Buddha-style in my chair, while Joann mimicked back home, and asked her: “Will you plan a wedding with me?” She has no ring, but we’re planning a wedding for August 7th. Hence, un-official. :) We’re ecstatic, filled with anticipation and hope and joy and longing (and a healthy amount of fear).
Yet despite the lure of home, life goes on in China, filled with experiences of love and goodness and beauty and grace that continue to sustain me here.
I went to a restaurant with some of my twenty-something, non-student Chinese friends recently, where each table had a built-in miniature barbecue. Perhaps this exists in the States but I’ve never seen it…and I think it’s brilliant. They bring you the meat and sauces, you cook it yourself! I think I cherish this small community (five of us) so much because they feel a bit more like peers (though I do indeed consider many of my students to be good friends); they don't even speak that much English.
I’ve had some gloomy students lately, sad that I’m leaving them in two and a half months. It’s very sweet and touching, actually, to hear them express their sadness. And slightly amusing, as whenever the conversation turns a bit sad, they grow extremely uncomfortable and want to change the subject. The girls here seem to have a bit of a stereotypical American male mindset about showing emotion and feel they are losing face by being too vulnerable in front of me. I have to reassure them that I welcome their tears and honesty and that I am to be trusted and will not judge them but will rather be blessed by their sincerity.
I’m closing in on a six-minute mile. I really haven’t taken the time to discover if that is impressive or not. But I run it every couple weeks and have gone from 7:10 to 6:29 to 6:27 to 6:19 to 6:04. Perhaps my next attempt is the one…
A good discussion about love recently with some students. I asked them about the ways they express love in China—children’s love for parents, parents love for children, parents’ love for one another, love between friends, love between a boyfriend and girlfriend. One interesting takeaway from this intriguing discussion was that typically no one says “I love you” here, and the reasons for this were varied.
One reason seemed to be pointlessness. Love does not need to be verbally articulated but should be expressed through action. You don’t show your love for someone by talking about love as an idea or a feeling you have but by doing things for others—such as giving gifts or doing housework for your parents or spending time with family. While I’m part of a culture that values verbal affirmation as an expression of love, I see the value in the general Chinese approach. They challenge me to wonder if our American way reflects what might be a more Western tendency to separate idea and practice, seen in how we often hold beliefs that can be held simply as ideas but need not be expressed through action to be valid beliefs.
Maybe the Chinese get this better than we do—the inseparability of idea and action. Though I may be giving them too much credit. There are plenty of ideas articulated here that are held just because they are tradition, not because they are believed to be valid. But the Chinese expression of love does make me think. And to be fair, not all students avoid saying “I love you” just because of their preference for doing things to express love. Some admittedly are just too shy to say it, feel too exposed to articulate such vulnerable words. While I find the desire to show love through action noble and convicting, I see this shyness as more of a tragedy, an indicator of a lack of intimacy.
But then again—my preference for intimacy might just be cultural, a reflection of my particular demographic or a generational preference. You can see the value of discussing such topics with those who are "other"—they help us better understand ourselves and challenge us to be open-minded about what constitutes “the good life” or “the way things really are.”
On another topic…in Wuhan last weekend, I discovered a fun new restaurant/shopping area—Xin Tian Di—similar to a neighborhood I visited while in Shanghai. I’d describe it as a step up from your typical outdoor shopping area (a la Bridgeport Village in Tigard) but a downgrade from a romantic European touristy neighborhood. There was a live jazz performance by an American or Canadian (couldn’t tell) who played a beautiful rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” A sublime moment, and I think the first time I’ve heard live jazz since leaving home.
Had an energizing coffeehouse conversation while in Wuhan. Some of the other teachers and I visited a place called “Mr. Mai’s,” a coffee shop started by a Christian couple several years ago who wanted to express their faith not through preaching but through creating a space for community and conversation. I ended up joining a table of five Chinese students and quickly (by their leading) got into a discussion about God and faith and science and the environment and free-thinking vs. tradition.
One girl in particular stood out to me, a senior student at a university in Wuhan. She was a bit more introspective than others and, while not dismissive of her rich Chinese heritage, thoughtfully critical of how the “Chinese way,” in her opinion, has done harm through its failure to encourage independent thinking in young people and through China’s efforts to develop at the expense of serious consequences.
For those unfamiliar, Chairman Mao once expressed a bit of his political philosophy by famously saying: “there can be no reconstruction without destruction.” This is a very sensitive subject here, as this philosophy has on one hand rapidly advanced China in some ways, such as reducing illiteracy and poverty both, but at the cost of some grave consequences to human lives, which you can read about elsewhere.
This conversation sticks out to me and probably will for a long time, I think because I so rarely meet a student both so articulate and so self-critical of her own culture. To be clear, though, this was not culture-bashing on her part; she clearly treasures China’s traditions and recognizes the great opportunities she has had to be happy and healthy and get an education.
But she is also a humanitarian, an environmentalist, a thinker, and aware of the susceptibility of young people to fall into their country’s indoctrination (as are we in America, but perhaps in less overt ways). And because of this, she is unwilling to accept things without deep consideration. This has led her to not only to criticism of how China’s rapid development has both harmed the people and the land itself, but has prompted her to action.* She is currently a design major (her parent’s choice), but intends in a few years to make her living through environmental work.
Regarding her “deep consideration”…I asked her if she was a Christian because she was asking me questions about my faith; she said she has been considering it for some time but is still thinking through it. I have another student friend who is seriously considering becoming a follower of Christ whose spiritual quest has been largely influenced by her observations of how the four of us NWYM teachers live life (as she shared with us). But aligning oneself with another value system, especially one that won’t necessarily but could potentially put oneself at odds with one’s own culture and traditions, is not a decision to be made lightly.
Anyhow...it was an unexpected and thoughtful conversation with a special individual.
*An addendum: I think China’s culture of “face”—the way actions are often dictated by whether they will bring one honor or shame, gaining face or losing face—helps make sense out of China’s mindset. I could be reaching here, but it seems like much of China’s desire to modernize and “catch up” with the West may stem from its long, rich history of being a world power long before the West was “the West.” It is likely a difficult thing for China to NOT be the leading power in the world, thus fueling its desire to regain its honor. Just some speculation.
It's actually probably old news now...but my unofficial engagement to my unofficial fiancée, Joann, is the real “distraction” of late. The not only sustaining but deepening of our relationship over my nearly eight months in China has been a rich process, the challenges of it overshadowed by the joys of sharing life with Joann these past months, despite a literal ocean between us.
I think our relationship is a testimony to a lot of things—God’s providence, the value of real friendship preceding romance, the longsuffering of two people willing to stick out a long-distance relationship for so long, and of course—Skype. I would not be getting married this summer were it not for the technology of video chatting. So thank you God, or Alexander Graham Bell, or Bill Gates, or Al Gore, or whoever I’m supposed to thank.
“Unofficial.” I (we) wanted to save the formal proposal for face-to-face after my return on July 1 but didn’t think that would allow us time to pull off a summer wedding. So on April Fool’s Day (of all days), I sat cross-legged Buddha-style in my chair, while Joann mimicked back home, and asked her: “Will you plan a wedding with me?” She has no ring, but we’re planning a wedding for August 7th. Hence, un-official. :) We’re ecstatic, filled with anticipation and hope and joy and longing (and a healthy amount of fear).
Yet despite the lure of home, life goes on in China, filled with experiences of love and goodness and beauty and grace that continue to sustain me here.
I went to a restaurant with some of my twenty-something, non-student Chinese friends recently, where each table had a built-in miniature barbecue. Perhaps this exists in the States but I’ve never seen it…and I think it’s brilliant. They bring you the meat and sauces, you cook it yourself! I think I cherish this small community (five of us) so much because they feel a bit more like peers (though I do indeed consider many of my students to be good friends); they don't even speak that much English.
I’ve had some gloomy students lately, sad that I’m leaving them in two and a half months. It’s very sweet and touching, actually, to hear them express their sadness. And slightly amusing, as whenever the conversation turns a bit sad, they grow extremely uncomfortable and want to change the subject. The girls here seem to have a bit of a stereotypical American male mindset about showing emotion and feel they are losing face by being too vulnerable in front of me. I have to reassure them that I welcome their tears and honesty and that I am to be trusted and will not judge them but will rather be blessed by their sincerity.
I’m closing in on a six-minute mile. I really haven’t taken the time to discover if that is impressive or not. But I run it every couple weeks and have gone from 7:10 to 6:29 to 6:27 to 6:19 to 6:04. Perhaps my next attempt is the one…
A good discussion about love recently with some students. I asked them about the ways they express love in China—children’s love for parents, parents love for children, parents’ love for one another, love between friends, love between a boyfriend and girlfriend. One interesting takeaway from this intriguing discussion was that typically no one says “I love you” here, and the reasons for this were varied.
One reason seemed to be pointlessness. Love does not need to be verbally articulated but should be expressed through action. You don’t show your love for someone by talking about love as an idea or a feeling you have but by doing things for others—such as giving gifts or doing housework for your parents or spending time with family. While I’m part of a culture that values verbal affirmation as an expression of love, I see the value in the general Chinese approach. They challenge me to wonder if our American way reflects what might be a more Western tendency to separate idea and practice, seen in how we often hold beliefs that can be held simply as ideas but need not be expressed through action to be valid beliefs.
Maybe the Chinese get this better than we do—the inseparability of idea and action. Though I may be giving them too much credit. There are plenty of ideas articulated here that are held just because they are tradition, not because they are believed to be valid. But the Chinese expression of love does make me think. And to be fair, not all students avoid saying “I love you” just because of their preference for doing things to express love. Some admittedly are just too shy to say it, feel too exposed to articulate such vulnerable words. While I find the desire to show love through action noble and convicting, I see this shyness as more of a tragedy, an indicator of a lack of intimacy.
But then again—my preference for intimacy might just be cultural, a reflection of my particular demographic or a generational preference. You can see the value of discussing such topics with those who are "other"—they help us better understand ourselves and challenge us to be open-minded about what constitutes “the good life” or “the way things really are.”
On another topic…in Wuhan last weekend, I discovered a fun new restaurant/shopping area—Xin Tian Di—similar to a neighborhood I visited while in Shanghai. I’d describe it as a step up from your typical outdoor shopping area (a la Bridgeport Village in Tigard) but a downgrade from a romantic European touristy neighborhood. There was a live jazz performance by an American or Canadian (couldn’t tell) who played a beautiful rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” A sublime moment, and I think the first time I’ve heard live jazz since leaving home.
Had an energizing coffeehouse conversation while in Wuhan. Some of the other teachers and I visited a place called “Mr. Mai’s,” a coffee shop started by a Christian couple several years ago who wanted to express their faith not through preaching but through creating a space for community and conversation. I ended up joining a table of five Chinese students and quickly (by their leading) got into a discussion about God and faith and science and the environment and free-thinking vs. tradition.
One girl in particular stood out to me, a senior student at a university in Wuhan. She was a bit more introspective than others and, while not dismissive of her rich Chinese heritage, thoughtfully critical of how the “Chinese way,” in her opinion, has done harm through its failure to encourage independent thinking in young people and through China’s efforts to develop at the expense of serious consequences.
For those unfamiliar, Chairman Mao once expressed a bit of his political philosophy by famously saying: “there can be no reconstruction without destruction.” This is a very sensitive subject here, as this philosophy has on one hand rapidly advanced China in some ways, such as reducing illiteracy and poverty both, but at the cost of some grave consequences to human lives, which you can read about elsewhere.
This conversation sticks out to me and probably will for a long time, I think because I so rarely meet a student both so articulate and so self-critical of her own culture. To be clear, though, this was not culture-bashing on her part; she clearly treasures China’s traditions and recognizes the great opportunities she has had to be happy and healthy and get an education.
But she is also a humanitarian, an environmentalist, a thinker, and aware of the susceptibility of young people to fall into their country’s indoctrination (as are we in America, but perhaps in less overt ways). And because of this, she is unwilling to accept things without deep consideration. This has led her to not only to criticism of how China’s rapid development has both harmed the people and the land itself, but has prompted her to action.* She is currently a design major (her parent’s choice), but intends in a few years to make her living through environmental work.
Regarding her “deep consideration”…I asked her if she was a Christian because she was asking me questions about my faith; she said she has been considering it for some time but is still thinking through it. I have another student friend who is seriously considering becoming a follower of Christ whose spiritual quest has been largely influenced by her observations of how the four of us NWYM teachers live life (as she shared with us). But aligning oneself with another value system, especially one that won’t necessarily but could potentially put oneself at odds with one’s own culture and traditions, is not a decision to be made lightly.
Anyhow...it was an unexpected and thoughtful conversation with a special individual.
*An addendum: I think China’s culture of “face”—the way actions are often dictated by whether they will bring one honor or shame, gaining face or losing face—helps make sense out of China’s mindset. I could be reaching here, but it seems like much of China’s desire to modernize and “catch up” with the West may stem from its long, rich history of being a world power long before the West was “the West.” It is likely a difficult thing for China to NOT be the leading power in the world, thus fueling its desire to regain its honor. Just some speculation.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Celebrating Easter in China
“He is risen. Risen. RIS-en, R-I-S-E-N…but with a “Z” sound. Risen, meaning, got up…dead, then alive. Risen. Yes, good, you got it!” So went a conversation with a Christian student on the way to a local church service yesterday morning, as I explained that on Easter, the more traditional greeting of “how are you” is often replaced by Christians with “he is risen—he is risen indeed.”
So I guess it turns out I’m kind of a holiday Christian (attending church only on Easter and Christmas). This is actually the first time I’ve been to the local church worship service since I arrived in China. A very small group of students at the school attend, along with another foreign teacher. I decided this was as good as any week to join in, knowing I wouldn’t necessarily be fully in-the-know as to what they were singing, praying, talking about.
But it was special, as I guessed it would be. Like several churches I attended in South America a couple years ago, there’s something profound about gathering with brothers and sisters in another culture, regardless of the language differences. Add to this that it was communion Sunday—a part of the Christian worship experience I cherish—and it felt like a beautiful expression of the diversity yet connectedness of God's Kingdom.
And not simply diversity of country, but of history and circumstances. It was thought-provoking to look around the sanctuary at the spread of ages and ponder the path these individuals have taken toward Christ and toward freely expressing their devotion to Christ. Many were older, probably coming to the Christian faith in a time where rules were strict about free expression of religion here. And many were younger, probably knowing only the religious freedom that is allowed under China’s “three-self church” that enables Christians to worship but with a little bit of the government keeping a watchful eye (mostly, I think, to limit foreign influence on the church and to ensure that Christians don’t disrupt the peace).
It was a packed room, a congregation singing “He Lives” (the only song I recognized), listening attentively to the young pastor’s message, and watching 50-60 people (!) get baptized (two baptism services a year). And of course, communion—a simple act but rich with meaning and unifying in its practice. I’m not really sure why I’ve waited so long to check out the local church, and will certainly return several times before leaving China.
Actually, it felt like a celebration of Easter all week. I had multiple opportunities to tell the story of Easter, maybe a bit more freely than I might have done so in the past. This is partially because it’s good cultural education for the students, and partly because, as I mentioned recently, I’ve gained the trust of many here and begun to earn the right to share with others those things and values I hold dear.
One odd link between Easter and China is that this weekend is a Chinese holiday as well—“Tomb Sweeping Day.” Many students returned home for the three-day weekend to accompany their families in visiting the graves of relatives and ancestors to light firecrackers and incense and offer prayers to the deceased. So a lot of conversations have emerged as my students and I explain the meaning of our respective “tomb-centered” holidays.
It’s both fun and strange sharing the Easter story. I have to simplify and repeat at times for my students to ensure they understand my English, but I frequently get “oohs” and “ahhs” or sometimes puzzled looks when I get to the part of the story where God resurrects this Jewish man from the dead and that, beyond simply being miraculous and novel, this event also carries with it a lot of meaning having to do with love and hope. I can often gather from my students’ expression that they are processing this, perhaps something like, “I respect Matt’s intelligence and opinions and the way he seems to approach life and treat others…Matt believes this and talks about it like it’s important…what do I do with this?”
I could be misguidedly assuming this process is happening in more people than it is. But I’m confident my words provoke some kind of reflection, especially among those students who are beginning to more deeply ask those existential questions as they seek direction in what to do with their lives, what to think, what to value, what to believe. It’s wonderful to have earned the right to share these things, and to feel I’ve had integrity in the way I’ve sought to honor and respect my students and their culture rather than be manipulative or pushy in expressing my opinions.
We teachers bought supplies for egg coloring at English Corner. I thought it would be a bit childish for them, but the students enjoyed it, and it provoked some fun conversations and a few silly moments. (English Corner attendees, by the way, are typically students who want to put extra time into practicing their English and visit with foreign teachers in a more informal way.)
It was fun to walk around and explain the significance of the egg at Easter—both the elusive rabbit who hides eggs and the original Christian significance of the egg. Which, to be honest, I had never really wondered about until this past week. It seems the egg was adopted by early Christians from pagan religion as a symbol of new life, a way of reminding one another of the living Christ by giving eggs to one another on Easter. I guess this is one of many wonderful traditions I’ve missed out on living my whole Christian life as an Evangelical; I think maybe we E’s have a tendency to be a bit oblivious to our rich Christian tradition at times, missing out on some real treasures as a result.
It really did end up being a celebration of Easter, but in a new and unique way. I’ve never had the opportunity to explain to so many people the meaning of Easter, people who are learning about this for the first time. The church I attended in Xiaogan is the exception, but they are a minority compared to my students who have a range of awareness about Easter, though relatively little awareness.
I think explaining the death and resurrection to a non-Christian is profound in that in doing so I’m really forced to consider the significance and scandal and absurdity of what it is I’m saying, as opposed to the affirming “amens” that come with sharing my beliefs with like-minded people.
There’s something powerful in sharing with others what I believe to be the best news in the world. I do it knowing that my ability to believe is not dependant on others’ agreement with that belief, but is my “two cents” on Truth, on the human story, shared with a sort of confident yet humble attitude that seeks the other’s two cents as well. So much good, so much learning, and so much love can emerge when beliefs are exchanged in the context of such respectful and inquisitive dialogue.
And it’s possible the most positive outcome of my “proclaiming” of this so-called good news was not any kind of good it did in the lives of others but that I feel my students understand me a bit more now. There are few things so scary yet so wonderful as being known.
So I guess it turns out I’m kind of a holiday Christian (attending church only on Easter and Christmas). This is actually the first time I’ve been to the local church worship service since I arrived in China. A very small group of students at the school attend, along with another foreign teacher. I decided this was as good as any week to join in, knowing I wouldn’t necessarily be fully in-the-know as to what they were singing, praying, talking about.
But it was special, as I guessed it would be. Like several churches I attended in South America a couple years ago, there’s something profound about gathering with brothers and sisters in another culture, regardless of the language differences. Add to this that it was communion Sunday—a part of the Christian worship experience I cherish—and it felt like a beautiful expression of the diversity yet connectedness of God's Kingdom.
And not simply diversity of country, but of history and circumstances. It was thought-provoking to look around the sanctuary at the spread of ages and ponder the path these individuals have taken toward Christ and toward freely expressing their devotion to Christ. Many were older, probably coming to the Christian faith in a time where rules were strict about free expression of religion here. And many were younger, probably knowing only the religious freedom that is allowed under China’s “three-self church” that enables Christians to worship but with a little bit of the government keeping a watchful eye (mostly, I think, to limit foreign influence on the church and to ensure that Christians don’t disrupt the peace).
It was a packed room, a congregation singing “He Lives” (the only song I recognized), listening attentively to the young pastor’s message, and watching 50-60 people (!) get baptized (two baptism services a year). And of course, communion—a simple act but rich with meaning and unifying in its practice. I’m not really sure why I’ve waited so long to check out the local church, and will certainly return several times before leaving China.
Actually, it felt like a celebration of Easter all week. I had multiple opportunities to tell the story of Easter, maybe a bit more freely than I might have done so in the past. This is partially because it’s good cultural education for the students, and partly because, as I mentioned recently, I’ve gained the trust of many here and begun to earn the right to share with others those things and values I hold dear.
One odd link between Easter and China is that this weekend is a Chinese holiday as well—“Tomb Sweeping Day.” Many students returned home for the three-day weekend to accompany their families in visiting the graves of relatives and ancestors to light firecrackers and incense and offer prayers to the deceased. So a lot of conversations have emerged as my students and I explain the meaning of our respective “tomb-centered” holidays.
It’s both fun and strange sharing the Easter story. I have to simplify and repeat at times for my students to ensure they understand my English, but I frequently get “oohs” and “ahhs” or sometimes puzzled looks when I get to the part of the story where God resurrects this Jewish man from the dead and that, beyond simply being miraculous and novel, this event also carries with it a lot of meaning having to do with love and hope. I can often gather from my students’ expression that they are processing this, perhaps something like, “I respect Matt’s intelligence and opinions and the way he seems to approach life and treat others…Matt believes this and talks about it like it’s important…what do I do with this?”
I could be misguidedly assuming this process is happening in more people than it is. But I’m confident my words provoke some kind of reflection, especially among those students who are beginning to more deeply ask those existential questions as they seek direction in what to do with their lives, what to think, what to value, what to believe. It’s wonderful to have earned the right to share these things, and to feel I’ve had integrity in the way I’ve sought to honor and respect my students and their culture rather than be manipulative or pushy in expressing my opinions.
We teachers bought supplies for egg coloring at English Corner. I thought it would be a bit childish for them, but the students enjoyed it, and it provoked some fun conversations and a few silly moments. (English Corner attendees, by the way, are typically students who want to put extra time into practicing their English and visit with foreign teachers in a more informal way.)
It was fun to walk around and explain the significance of the egg at Easter—both the elusive rabbit who hides eggs and the original Christian significance of the egg. Which, to be honest, I had never really wondered about until this past week. It seems the egg was adopted by early Christians from pagan religion as a symbol of new life, a way of reminding one another of the living Christ by giving eggs to one another on Easter. I guess this is one of many wonderful traditions I’ve missed out on living my whole Christian life as an Evangelical; I think maybe we E’s have a tendency to be a bit oblivious to our rich Christian tradition at times, missing out on some real treasures as a result.
It really did end up being a celebration of Easter, but in a new and unique way. I’ve never had the opportunity to explain to so many people the meaning of Easter, people who are learning about this for the first time. The church I attended in Xiaogan is the exception, but they are a minority compared to my students who have a range of awareness about Easter, though relatively little awareness.
I think explaining the death and resurrection to a non-Christian is profound in that in doing so I’m really forced to consider the significance and scandal and absurdity of what it is I’m saying, as opposed to the affirming “amens” that come with sharing my beliefs with like-minded people.
There’s something powerful in sharing with others what I believe to be the best news in the world. I do it knowing that my ability to believe is not dependant on others’ agreement with that belief, but is my “two cents” on Truth, on the human story, shared with a sort of confident yet humble attitude that seeks the other’s two cents as well. So much good, so much learning, and so much love can emerge when beliefs are exchanged in the context of such respectful and inquisitive dialogue.
And it’s possible the most positive outcome of my “proclaiming” of this so-called good news was not any kind of good it did in the lives of others but that I feel my students understand me a bit more now. There are few things so scary yet so wonderful as being known.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)