Enoch Arden by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

ENOCH ARDEN

Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;
And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands;
Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf
In cluster; then a moulder'd church; and higher
A long street climbs to one tall-tower'd mill;
And high in heaven behind it a gray down
With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood,
By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes
Green in a cuplike hollow of the down.

Here on this beach a hundred years ago,
Three children of three houses, Annie Lee,
The prettiest little damsel in the port,
And Philip Ray the miller's only son,
And Enoch Arden, a rough sailor's lad
Made orphan by a winter shipwreck, play'd
Among the waste and lumber of the shore,
Hard coils of cordage, swarthy fishing-nets,
Anchors of rusty fluke, and boats updrawn,
And built their castles of dissolving sand
To watch them overflow'd, or following up
And flying the white breaker, daily left
The little footprint daily wash'd away.

A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff:
In this the children play'd at keeping house.
Enoch was host one day, Philip the next,
While Annie still was mistress; but at times
Enoch would hold possession for a week:
`This is my house and this my little wife.'
`Mine too' said Philip `turn and turn about:'
When, if they quarrell'd, Enoch stronger-made
Was master: then would Philip, his blue eyes
All flooded with the helpless wrath of tears,
Shriek out `I hate you, Enoch,' and at this
The little wife would weep for company,
And pray them not to quarrel for her sake,
And say she would be little wife to both.

But when the dawn of rosy childhood past,
And the new warmth of life's ascending sun
Was felt by either, either fixt his heart
On that one girl; and Enoch spoke his love,
But Philip loved in silence; and the girl
Seem'd kinder unto Philip than to him;
But she loved Enoch; tho' she knew it not,
And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set
A purpose evermore before his eyes,
To hoard all savings to the uttermost,
To purchase his own boat, and make a home
For Annie: and so prosper'd that at last
A luckier or a bolder fisherman,
A carefuller in peril, did not breathe
For leagues along that breaker-beaten coast
Than Enoch. Likewise had he served a year
On board a merchantman, and made himself
Full sailor; and he thrice had pluck'd a life
From the dread sweep of the down-streaming seas:
And all me look'd upon him favorably:
And ere he touch'd his one-and-twentieth May
He purchased his own boat, and made a home
For Annie, neat and nestlike, halfway up
The narrow street that clamber'd toward the mill.

Then, on a golden autumn eventide,
The younger people making holiday,
With bag and sack and basket, great and small,
Went nutting to the hazels. Philip stay'd
(His father lying sick and needing him)
An hour behind; but as he climb'd the hill,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, saw the pair,
Enoch and Annie, sitting hand-in-hand,
His large gray eyes and weather-beaten face
All-kindled by a still and sacred fire,
That burn'd as on an altar. Philip look'd,
And in their eyes and faces read his doom;
Then, as their faces drew together, groan'd,
And slipt aside, and like a wounded life
Crept down into the hollows of the wood;
There, while the rest were loud in merrymaking,
Had his dark hour unseen, and rose and past
Bearing a lifelong hunger in his heart.

So these were wed, and merrily rang the bells,
And merrily ran the years, seven happy years,
Seven happy years of health and competence,
And mutual love and honorable toil;
With children; first a daughter. In him woke,
With his first babe's first cry, the noble wish
To save all earnings to the uttermost,
And give his child a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or hers; a wish renew'd,
When two years after came a boy to be
The rosy idol of her solitudes,
While Enoch was abroad on wrathful seas,
Or often journeying landward; for in truth
Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's ocean-spoil
In ocean-smelling osier, and his face,
Rough-redden'd with a thousand winter gales,
Not only to the market-cross were known,
But in the leafy lanes behind the down,
Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp,
And peacock-yewtree of the lonely Hall,
Whose Friday fare was Enoch's ministering.

Then came a change, as all things human change.
Ten miles to northward of the narrow port
Open'd a larger haven: thither used
Enoch at times to go by land or sea;
And once when there, and clambering on a mast
In harbor, by mischance he slipt and fell:
A limb was broken when they lifted him;
And while he lay recovering there, his wife
Bore him another son, a sickly one:
Another hand crept too across his trade
Taking her bread and theirs: and on him fell,
Altho' a grave and staid God-fearing man,
Yet lying thus inactive, doubt and gloom.
He seem'd, as in a nightmare of the night,
To see his children leading evermore
Low miserable lives of hand-to-mouth,
And her, he loved, a beggar: then he pray'd
`Save them from this, whatever comes to me.'
And while he pray'd, the master of that ship
Enoch had served in, hearing his mischance,
Came, for he knew the man and valued him,
Reporting of his vessel China-bound,
And wanting yet a boatswain. Would he go?
There yet were many weeks before she sail'd,
Sail'd from this port. Would Enoch have the place?
And Enoch all at once assented to it,
Rejoicing at that answer to his prayer.

So now that the shadow of mischance appear'd
No graver than as when some little cloud
Cuts off the fiery highway of the sun,
And isles a light in the offing: yet the wife--
When he was gone--the children--what to do?
Then Enoch lay long-pondering on his plans;
To sell the boat--and yet he loved her well--
How many a rough sea had he weather'd in her!
He knew her, as a horseman knows his horse--
And yet to sell her--then with what she brought
Buy goods and stores--set Annie forth in trade
With all that seamen needed or their wives--
So might she keep the house while he was gone.
Should he not trade himself out yonder? go
This voyage more than once? yea twice or thrice--
As oft as needed--last, returning rich,
Become the master of a larger craft,
With fuller profits lead an easier life,
Have all his pretty young ones educated,
And pass his days in peace among his own.

Thus Enoch in his heart determined all:
Then moving homeward came on Annie pale,
Nursing the sickly babe, her latest-born.
Forward she started with a happy cry,
And laid the feeble infant in his arms;
Whom Enoch took, and handled all his limbs,
Appraised his weight and fondled fatherlike,
But had no heart to break his purposes
To Annie, till the morrow, when he spoke.

Then first since Enoch's golden ring had girt
Her finger, Annie fought against his will:
Yet not with brawling opposition she,
But manifold entreaties, many a tear,
Many a sad kiss by day and night renew'd
(Sure that all evil would come out of it)
Besought him, supplicating, if he cared
For here or his dear children, not to go.
He not for his own self caring but her,
Her and her children, let her plead in vain;
So grieving held his will, and bore it thro'.

For Enoch parted with his old sea-friend,
Bought Annie goods and stores, and set his hand
To fit their little streetward sitting-room
With shelf and corner for the goods and stores.
So all day long till Enoch's last at home,
Shaking their pretty cabin, hammer and axe,
Auger and saw, while Annie seem'd to hear
Her own death-scaffold raising, shrill'd and rang,
Till this was ended, and his careful hand,--
The space was narrow,--having order'd all
Almost as neat and close as Nature packs
Her blossom or her seedling, paused; and he,
Who needs would work for Annie to the last,
Ascending tired, heavily slept till morn.

And Enoch faced this morning of farewell
Brightly and boldly. All his Annie's fears,
Save, as his Annie's, were a laughter to him.
Yet Enoch as a brave God-fearing man
Bow'd himself down, and in that mystery
Where God-in-man is one with man-in-God,
Pray'd for a blessing on his wife and babes
Whatever came to him: and then he said
`Annie, this voyage by the grace of God
Will bring fair weather yet to all of us.
Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire for me,
For I'll be back, my girl, before you know it.'
Then lightly rocking baby's cradle `and he,
This pretty, puny, weakly little one,--
Nay--for I love him all the better for it--
God bless him, he shall sit upon my knees
And I will tell him tales of foreign parts,
And make him merry, when I come home again.
Come Annie, come, cheer up before I go.'

Him running on thus hopefully she heard,
And almost hoped herself; but when he turn'd
The current of his talk to graver things
In sailor fashion roughly sermonizing
On providence and trust in Heaven, she heard,
Heard and not heard him; as the village girl,
Who sets her pitcher underneath the spring,
Musing on him that used to fill it for her,
Hears and not hears, and lets it overflow.

At length she spoke `O Enoch, you are wise;
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.'

`Well then,' said Enoch, `I shall look on yours.
Annie, the ship I sail in passes here
(He named the day) get you a seaman's glass,
Spy out my face, and laugh at all your fears.'

But when the last of those last moments came,
`Annie my girl, cheer up, be comforted,
Look to the babes, and till I come again,
Keep everything shipshape, for I must go.
And fear no more for me; or if you fear
Cast all your cares on God; that anchor holds.
Is He not yonder in those uttermost
Parts of the morning? if I flee to these
Can I go from Him? and the sea is His,
The sea is His: He made it.'

Enoch rose,
Cast his strong arms about his drooping wife,
And kiss'd his wonder-stricken little ones;
But for the third, sickly one, who slept
After a night of feverous wakefulness,
When Annie would have raised him Enoch said
`Wake him not; let him sleep; how should this child
Remember this?' and kiss'ed him in his cot.
But Annie from her baby's forehead clipt
A tiny curl, and gave it: this he kept
Thro' all his future; but now hastily caught
His bundle, waved his hand, and went his way.

She when the day, that Enoch mention'd, came,
Borrow'd a glass, but all in vain: perhaps
She could not fix the glass to suit her eye;
Perhaps her eye was dim, hand tremulous;
She saw him not: and while he stood on deck
Waving, the moment and the vessel past.

Ev'n to the last dip of the vanishing sail
She watch'd it, and departed weeping for him;
Then, tho' she mourn'd his absence as his grave,
Set her sad will no less to chime with his,
But throve not in her trade, not being bred
To barter, nor compensating the want
By shrewdness, neither capable of lies,
Nor asking overmuch and taking less,
And still foreboding `what would Enoch say?'
For more than once, in days of difficulty
And pressure, had she sold her wares for less
Than what she gave in buying what she sold:
She fail'd and sadden'd knowing it; and thus,
Expectant of that news that never came,
Gain'd for here own a scanty sustenance,
And lived a life of silent melancholy.

Now the third child was sickly-born and grew
Yet sicklier, tho' the mother cared for it
With all a mother's care: nevertheless,
Whether her business often call'd her from it,
Or thro' the want of what it needed most,
Or means to pay the voice who best could tell
What most it needed--howsoe'er it was,
After a lingering,--ere she was aware,--
Like the caged bird escaping suddenly,
The little innocent soul flitted away.

In that same week when Annie buried it,
Philip's true heart, which hunger'd for her peace
(Since Enoch left he had not look'd upon her),
Smote him, as having kept aloof so long.
`Surely' said Philip `I may see her now,
May be some little comfort;' therefore went,
Past thro' the solitary room in front,
Paused for a moment at an inner door,
Then struck it thrice, and, no one opening,
Enter'd; but Annie, seated with her grief,
Fresh from the burial of her little one,
Cared not to look on any human face,
But turn'd her own toward the wall and wept.
Then Philip standing up said falteringly
`Annie, I came to ask a favor of you.'

He spoke; the passion in her moan'd reply
`Favor from one so sad and so forlorn
As I am!' half abash'd him; yet unask'd,
His bashfulness and tenderness at war,
He set himself beside her, saying to her:

`I came to speak to you of what he wish'd,
Enoch, your husband: I have ever said
You chose the best among us--a strong man:
For where he fixt his heart he set his hand
To do the thing he will'd, and bore it thro'.
And wherefore did he go this weary way,
And leave you lonely? not to see the world--
For pleasure?--nay, but for the wherewithal
To give his babes a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or yours: that was his wish.
And if he come again, vext will he be
To find the precious morning hours were lost.
And it would vex him even in his grave,
If he could know his babes were running wild
Like colts about the waste. So Annie, now--
Have we not known each other all our lives?
I do beseech you by the love you bear
Him and his children not to say me nay--
For, if you will, when Enoch comes again
Why then he shall repay me--if you will,
Annie--for I am rich and well-to-do.
Now let me put the boy and girl to school:
This is the favor that I came to ask.'

Then Annie with her brows against the wall
Answer'd `I cannot look you in the face;
I seem so foolish and so broken down.
When you came in my sorrow broke me down;
And now I think your kindness breaks me down;
But Enoch lives; that is borne in on me:
He will repay you: money can be repaid;
Not kindness such as yours.'

And Philip ask'd
`Then you will let me, Annie?'

There she turn'd,
She rose, and fixt her swimming eyes upon him,
And dwelt a moment on his kindly face,
Then calling down a blessing on his head
Caught at his hand and wrung it passionately,
And past into the little garth beyond.
So lifted up in spirit he moved away.

Then Philip put the boy and girl to school,
And bought them needful books, and everyway,
Like one who does his duty by his own,
Made himself theirs; and tho' for Annie's sake,
Fearing the lazy gossip of the port,
He oft denied his heart his dearest wish,
And seldom crost her threshold, yet he sent
Gifts by the children, garden-herbs and fruit,
The late and early roses from his wall,
Or conies from the down, and now and then,
With some pretext of fineness in the meal
To save the offence of charitable, flour
From his tall mill that whistled on the waste.

But Philip did not fathom Annie's mind:
Scarce could the woman when he came upon her,
Out of full heart and boundless gratitude
Light on a broken word to thank him with.
But Philip was her children's all-in-all;
From distant corners of the street they ran
To greet his hearty welcome heartily;
Lords of his house and of his mill were they;
Worried his passive ear with petty wrongs
Or pleasures, hung upon him, play'd with him
And call'd him Father Philip. Philip gain'd
As Enoch lost; for Enoch seem'd to them
Uncertain as a vision or a dream,
Faint as a figure seen in early dawn
Down at the far end of an avenue,
Going we know not where: and so ten years,
Since Enoch left his hearth and native land,
Fled forward, and no news of Enoch came.

It chanced one evening Annie's children long'd
To go with others, nutting to the wood,
And Annie would go with them; then they begg'd
For Father Philip (as they call'd him) too:
Him, like the working bee in blossom-dust,
Blanch'd with his mill, they found; and saying to him
`Come with us Father Philip' he denied;
But when the children pluck'd at him to go,
He laugh'd, and yielding readily to their wish,
For was not Annie with them? and they went.

But after scaling half the weary down,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, all her force
Fail'd her; and sighing `let me rest' she said.
So Philip rested with her well-content;
While all the younger ones with jubilant cries
Broke from their elders, and tumultuously
Down thro' the whitening hazels made a plunge
To the bottom, and dispersed, and beat or broke
The lithe reluctant boughs to tear away
Their tawny clusters, crying to each other
And calling, here and there, about the wood.

But Philip sitting at her side forgot
Her presence, and remember'd one dark hour
Here in this wood, when like a wounded life
He crept into the shadow: at last he said
Lifting his honest forehead `Listen, Annie,
How merry they are down yonder in the wood.'
`Tired, Annie?' for she did not speak a word.
`Tired?' but her face had fall'n upon her hands;
At which, as with a kind anger in him,
`The ship was lost' he said `the ship was lost!
No more of that! why should you kill yourself
And make them orphans quite?' And Annie said
`I thought not of it: but--I known not why--
Their voices make me feel so solitary.'

Then Philip coming somewhat closer spoke.
`Annie, there is a thing upon my mind,
And it has been upon my mind so long,
That tho' I know not when it first came there,
I know that it will out at last. O Annie,
It is beyond all hope, against all chance,
That he who left you ten long years ago
Should still be living; well then--let me speak:
I grieve to see you poor and wanting help:
I cannot help you as I wish to do
Unless--they say that women are so quick--
Perhaps you know what I would have you know--
I wish you for my wife. I fain would prove
A father to your children: I do think
They love me as a father: I am sure
That I love them as if they were mine own;
And I believe, if you were fast my wife,
That after all these sad uncertain years,
We might be still as happy as God grants
To any of His creatures. Think upon it:
For I am well-to-do--no kin, no care,
No burthen, save my care for you and yours:
And we have known each other all our lives,
And I have loved you longer than you know.'

Then answer'd Annie; tenderly she spoke:
`You have been as God's good angel in our house.
God bless you for it, God reward you for it,
Philip, with something happier than myself.
Can one live twice? can you be ever loved
As Enoch was? what is it that you ask?'
`I am content' he answer'd `to be loved
A little after Enoch.' `O' she cried
Scared as it were `dear Philip, wait a while:
If Enoch comes--but Enoch will not come--
Yet wait a year, a year is not so long:
Surely I shall be wiser in a year:
O wait a little!' Philip sadly said
`Annie, as I have waited all my life
I well may wait a little.' `Nay' she cried
`I am bound: you have my promise--in a year:
Will you not bide your year as I bide mine?'
And Philip answer'd `I will bide my year.'

Here both were mute, till Philip glancing up
Beheld the dead flame of the fallen day
Pass from the Danish barrow overhead;
Then fearing night and chill for Annie rose,
And sent his voice beneath him thro' the wood.
Up came the children laden with their spoil;
Then all descended to the port, and there
At Annie's door he paused and gave his hand,
Saying gently `Annie, when I spoke to you,
That was your hour of weakness. I was wrong.
I am always bound to you, but you are free.'
Then Annie weeping answer'd `I am bound.'

She spoke; and in one moment as it were,
While yet she went about her household ways,
Ev'n as she dwelt upon his latest words,
That he had loved her longer than she knew,
That autumn into autumn flash'd again,
And there he stood once more before her face,
Claiming her promise. `Is it a year?' she ask'd.
`Yes, if the nuts' he said `be ripe again:
Come out and see.' But she--she put him off--
So much to look to--such a change--a month--
Give her a month--she knew that she was bound--
A month--no more. Then Philip with his eyes
Full of that lifelong hunger, and his voice
Shaking a little like a drunkard's hand,
`Take your own time, Annie, take your own time.'
And Annie could have wept for pity of him;
And yet she held him on delayingly
With many a scarce-believable excuse,
Trying his truth and his long-sufferance,
Till half-another year had slipt away.

By this the lazy gossips of the port,
Abhorrent of a calculation crost,
Began to chafe as at a personal wrong.
Some thought that Philip did but trifle with her;
Some that she but held off to draw him on;
And others laugh'd at her and Philip too,
As simple folks that knew not their own minds;
And one, in whom all evil fancies clung
Like serpent eggs together, laughingly
Would hint a worse in either. Her own son
Was silent, tho' he often look'd his wish;
But evermore the daughter prest upon her
To wed the man so dear to all of them
And lift the household out of poverty;
And Philip's rosy face contracting grew
Careworn and wan; and all these things fell on her
Sharp as reproach.

At last one night it chanced
That Annie could not sleep, but earnestly
Pray'd for a sign `my Enoch is he gone?'
Then compass'd round by the blind wall of night
Brook'd not the expectant terror of her heart,
Started from bed, and struck herself a light,
Then desperately seized the holy Book,
Suddenly set it wide to find a sign,
Suddenly put her finger on the text,
`Under a palmtree.' That was nothing to her:
No meaning there: she closed the book and slept:
When lo! her Enoch sitting on a height,
Under a palmtree, over him the Sun:
`He is gone' she thought `he is happy, he is singing
Hosanna in the highest: yonder shines
The Sun of Righteousness, and these be palms
Whereof the happy people strowing cried
"Hosanna in the highest!"' Here she woke,
Resolved, sent for him and said wildly to him
`There is no reason why we should not wed.'
`Then for God's sake,' he answer'd, `both our sakes,
So you will wed me, let it be at once.'

So these were wed and merrily rang the bells,
Merrily rang the bells and they were wed.
But never merrily beat Annie's heart.
A footstep seem'd to fall beside her path,
She knew not whence; a whisper in her ear,
She knew not what; nor loved she to be left
Alone at home, nor ventured out alone.
What ail'd her then, that ere she enter'd, often
Her hand dwelt lingeringly on the latch,
Fearing to enter: Philip thought he knew:
Such doubts and fears were common to her state,
Being with child: but when her child was born,
Then her new child was as herself renew'd,
Then the new mother came about her heart,
Then her good Philip was her all-in-all,
And that mysterious instinct wholly died.

And where was Enoch? prosperously sail'd
The ship `Good Fortune,' tho' at setting forth
The Biscay, roughly ridging eastward, shook
And almost overwhelm'd her, yet unvext
She slipt across the summer of the world,
Then after a long tumble about the Cape
And frequent interchange of foul and fair,
She passing thro' the summer world again,
The breath of heaven came continually
And sent her sweetly by the golden isles,
Till silent in her oriental haven.

There Enoch traded for himself, and bought
Quaint monsters for the market of those times,
A gilded dragon, also, for the babes.

Less lucky her home-voyage: at first indeed
Thro' many a fair sea-circle, day by day,
Scarce-rocking, her full-busted figure-head
Stared o'er the ripple feathering from her bows:
Then follow'd calms, and then winds variable,
Then baffling, a long course of them; and last
Storm, such as drove her under moonless heavens
Till hard upon the cry of `breakers' came
The crash of ruin, and the loss of all
But Enoch and two others. Half the night,
Buoy'd upon floating tackle and broken spars,
These drifted, stranding on an isle at morn
Rich, but loneliest in a lonely sea.

No want was there of human sustenance,
Soft fruitage, mighty nuts, and nourishing roots;
Nor save for pity was it hard to take
The helpless life so wild that it was tame.
There in a seaward-gazing mountain-gorge
They built, and thatch'd with leaves of palm, a hut,
Half hut, half native cavern. So the three,
Set in this Eden of all plenteousness,
Dwelt with eternal summer, ill-content.

For one, the youngest, hardly more than boy,
Hurt in that night of sudden ruin and wreck,
Lay lingering out a three-years' death-in-life.
They could not leave him. After he was gone,
The two remaining found a fallen stem;
And Enoch's comrade, careless of himself,
Fire-hollowing this in Indian fashion, fell
Sun-stricken, and that other lived alone.
In those two deaths he read God's warning `wait.'

The mountain wooded to the peak, the lawns
And winding glades high up like ways to Heaven,
The slender coco's drooping crown of plumes,
The lightning flash of insect and of bird,
The lustre of the long convolvuluses
That coil'd around the stately stems, and ran
Ev'n to the limit of the land, the glows
And glories of the broad belt of the world,
All these he saw; but what he fain had seen
He could not see, the kindly human face,
Nor ever hear a kindly voice, but heard
The myriad shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl,
The league-long roller thundering on the reef,
The moving whisper of huge trees that branch'd
And blossom'd in the zenith, or the sweep
Of some precipitous rivulet to the wave,
As down the shore he ranged, or all day long
Sat often in the seaward-gazing gorge,
A shipwreck'd sailor, waiting for a sail:
No sail from day to day, but every day
The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts
Among the palms and ferns and precipices;
The blaze upon the waters to the east;
The blaze upon his island overhead;
The blaze upon the waters to the west;
Then the great stars that globed themselves in Heaven,
The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again
The scarlet shafts of sunrise--but no sail.

There often as he watch'd or seem'd to watch,
So still, the golden lizard on him paused,
A phantom made of many phantoms moved
Before him haunting him, or he himself
Moved haunting people, things and places, known
Far in a darker isle beyond the line;
The babes, their babble, Annie, the small house,
The climbing street, the mill, the leafy lanes,
The peacock-yewtree and the lonely Hall,
The horse he drove, the boat he sold, the chill
November dawns and dewy-glooming downs,
The gentle shower, the smell of dying leaves,
And the low moan of leaden-color'd seas.

Once likewise, in the ringing of his ears,
Tho' faintly, merrily--far and far away--
He heard the pealing of his parish bells;
Then, tho' he knew not wherefore, started up
Shuddering, and when the beauteous hateful isle
Return'd upon him, had not his poor heart
Spoken with That, which being everywhere
Lets none, who speaks with Him, seem all alone,
Surely the man had died of solitude.

Thus over Enoch's early-silvering head
The sunny and rainy seasons came and went
Year after year. His hopes to see his own,
And pace the sacred old familiar fields,
Not yet had perish'd, when his lonely doom
Came suddenly to an end. Another ship
(She wanted water) blown by baffling winds,
Like the Good Fortune, from her destined course,
Stay'd by this isle, not knowing where she lay:
For since the mate had seen at early dawn
Across a break on the mist-wreathen isle
The silent water slipping from the hills,
They sent a crew that landing burst away
In search of stream or fount, and fill'd the shores
With clamor. Downward from his mountain gorge
Stept the long-hair'd long-bearded solitary,
Brown, looking hardly human, strangely clad,
Muttering and mumbling, idiotlike it seem'd,
With inarticulate rage, and making signs
They knew not what: and yet he led the way
To where the rivulets of sweet water ran;
And ever as he mingled with the crew,
And heard them talking, his long-bounden tongue
Was loosen'd, till he made them understand;
Whom, when their casks were fill'd they took aboard:
And there the tale he utter'd brokenly,
Scarce credited at first but more and more,
Amazed and melted all who listen'd to it:
And clothes they gave him and free passage home;
But oft he work'd among the rest and shook
His isolation from him. None of these
Came from his county, or could answer him,
If question'd, aught of what he cared to know.
And dull the voyage was with long delays,
The vessel scarce sea-worthy; but evermore
His fancy fled before the lazy wind
Returning, till beneath a clouded moon
He like a lover down thro' all his blood
Drew in the dewy meadowy morning-breath
Of England, blown across her ghostly wall:
And that same morning officers and men
Levied a kindly tax upon themselves,
Pitying the lonely man, and gave him it:
Then moving up the coast they landed him,
Ev'n in that harbor whence he sail'd before.

There Enoch spoke no word to anyone,
But homeward--home--what home? had he a home?
His home, he walk'd. Bright was that afternoon,
Sunny but chill; till drawn thro' either chasm,
Where either haven open'd on the deeps,
Roll'd a sea-haze and whelm'd the world in gray;
Cut off the length of highway on before,
And left but narrow breadth to left and right
Of wither'd holt or tilth or pasturage.
On the nigh-naked tree the Robin piped
Disconsolate, and thro' the dripping haze
The dead weight of the dead leaf bore it down.
Thicker the drizzle grew, deeper the gloom;
Last, as it seem'd, a great mist-blotted light
Flared on him, and he came upon the place.

Then down the long street having slowly stolen,
His heart foreshadowing all calamity,
His eyes upon the stones, he reach'd the home
Where Annie lived and loved him, and his babes
In those far-off seven happy years were born;
But finding neither light nor murmur there
(A bill of sale gleam'd thro' the drizzle) crept
Still downward thinking `dead or dead to me!'

Down to the pool and narrow wharf he went,
Seeking a tavern which of old he knew,
A front of timber-crost antiquity,
So propt, worm-eaten, ruinously old,
He thought it must have gone; but he was gone
Who kept it; and his widow, Miriam Lane,
With daily-dwindling profits held the house;
A haunt of brawling seamen once, but now
Stiller, with yet a bed for wandering men.
There Enoch rested silently many days.

But Miriam Lane was good and garrulous,
Nor let him be, but often breaking in,
Told him, with other annals of the port,
Not knowing--Enoch was so brown, so bow'd,
So broken--all the story of his house.
His baby's death, her growing poverty,
How Philip put her little ones to school,
And kept them in it, his long wooing her,
Her slow consent, and marriage, and the birth
Of Philip's child: and o'er his countenance
No shadow past, nor motion: anyone,
Regarding, well had deem'd he felt the tale
Less than the teller: only when she closed
`Enoch, poor man, was cast away and lost'
He, shaking his gray head pathetically,
Repeated muttering `cast away and lost;'
Again in deeper inward whispers `lost!'

But Enoch yearn'd to see her face again;
`If I might look on her sweet face gain
And know that she is happy.' So the thought
Haunted and harass'd him, and drove him forth,
At evening when the dull November day
Was growing duller twilight, to the hill.
There he sat down gazing on all below;
There did a thousand memories roll upon him,
Unspeakable for sadness. By and by
The ruddy square of comfortable light,
Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house,
Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures
The bird of passage, till he madly strikes
Against it, and beats out his weary life.

For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street,
The latest house to landward; but behind,
With one small gate that open'd on the waste,
Flourish'd a little garden square and wall'd:
And in it throve an ancient evergreen,
A yewtree, and all round it ran a walk
Of shingle, and a walk divided it:
But Enoch shunn'd the middle walk and stole
Up by the wall, behind the yew; and thence
That which he better might have shunn'd, if griefs
Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw.

For cups and silver on the burnish'd board
Sparkled and shone; so genial was the hearth:
And on the right hand of the hearth he saw
Philip, the slighted suitor of old times,
Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees;
And o'er her second father stoopt a girl,
A later but a loftier Annie Lee,
Fair-hair'd and tall, and from her lifted hand
Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring
To tempt the babe, who rear'd his creasy arms,
Caught at and ever miss'd it, and they laugh'd:
And on the left hand of the hearth he saw
The mother glancing often toward her babe,
But turning now and then to speak with him,
Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong,
And saying that which pleased him, for he smiled.

Now when the dead man come to life beheld
His wife his wife no more, and saw the babe
Hers, yet not his, upon the father's knee,
And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness,
And his own children tall and beautiful,
And him, that other, reigning in his place,
Lord of his rights and of his children's love,--
Then he, tho' Miriam Lane had told him all,
Because things seen are mightier than things heard,
Stagger'd and shook, holding the branch, and fear'd
To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry,
Which in one moment, like the blast of doom,
Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth.

He therefore turning softly like a thief,
Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot,
And feeling all along the garden-wall,
Lest he should swoon and tumble and be found,
Crept to the gate, and open'd it, and closed,
As lightly as a sick man's chamber-door,
Behind him, and came out upon the waste.

And there he would have knelt, but that his knees
Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug
His fingers into the wet earth, and pray'd.

`Too hard to bear! why did they take me hence?
O God Almighty, blessed Saviour, Thou
That didst uphold me on my lonely isle,
Uphold me, Father, in my loneliness
A little longer! aid me, give me strength
Not to tell her, never to let her know.
Help me no to break in upon her peace.
My children too! must I not speak to these?
They know me not. I should betray myself.
Never: not father's kiss for me--the girl
So like her mother, and the boy, my son.'

There speech and thought and nature fail'd a little,
And he lay tranced; but when he rose and paced
Back toward his solitary home again,
All down the long and narrow street he went
Beating it in upon his weary brain,
As tho' it were the burthen of a song,
`Not to tell her, never to let her know.'

He was not all unhappy. His resolve
Upbore him, and firm faith, and evermore
Prayer from a living source within the will,
And beating up thro' all the bitter world,
Like fountains of sweet water in the sea,
Kept him a living soul. `This miller's wife'
He said to Miriam `that you told me of,
Has she no fear that her first husband lives?'
`Ay ay, poor soul' said Miriam, `fear enow!
If you could tell her you had seen him dead,
Why, that would be her comfort;' and he thought
`After the Lord has call'd me she shall know,
I wait His time' and Enoch set himself,
Scorning an alms, to work whereby to live.
Almost to all things could he turn his hand.
Cooper he was and carpenter, and wrought
To make the boatmen fishing-nets, or help'd
At lading and unlading the tall barks,
That brought the stinted commerce of those days;
Thus earn'd a scanty living for himself:
Yet since he did but labor for himself,
Work without hope, there was not life in it
Whereby the man could live; and as the year
Roll'd itself round again to meet the day
When Enoch had return'd, a languor came
Upon him, gentle sickness, gradually
Weakening the man, till he could do no more,
But kept the house, his chair, and last his bed.
And Enoch bore his weakness cheerfully.
For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck
See thro' the gray skirts of a lifting squall
The boat that bears the hope of life approach
To save the life despair'd of, than he saw
Death dawning on him, and the close of all.

For thro' that dawning gleam'd a kindlier hope
On Enoch thinking `after I am gone,
Then may she learn I loved her to the last.'
He call'd aloud for Miriam Lane and said
`Woman, I have a secret--only swear,
Before I tell you--swear upon the book
Not to reveal it, till you see me dead.'
`Dead' clamor'd the good woman `hear him talk!
I warrant, man, that we shall bring you round.'
`Swear' add Enoch sternly `on the book.'
And on the book, half-frighted, Miriam swore.
Then Enoch rolling his gray eyes upon her,
`Did you know Enoch Arden of this town?'
`Know him?' she said `I knew him far away.
Ay, ay, I mind him coming down the street;
Held his head high, and cared for no man, he.'
Slowly and sadly Enoch answer'd her;
`His head is low, and no man cares for him.
I think I have not three days more to live;
I am the man.' At which the woman gave
A half-incredulous, half-hysterical cry.
`You Arden, you! nay,--sure he was a foot
Higher than you be.' Enoch said again
`My God has bow'd me down to what I am;
My grief and solitude have broken me;
Nevertheless, know that I am he
Who married--but that name has twice been changed--
I married her who married Philip Ray.
Sit, listen.' Then he told her of his voyage,
His wreck, his lonely life, his coming back,
His gazing in on Annie, his resolve,
And how he kept it. As the woman heard,
Fast flow'd the current of her easy tears,
While in her heart she yearn'd incessantly
To rush abroad all round the little haven,
Proclaiming Enoch Arden and his woes;
But awed and promise-bounded she forbore,
Saying only `See your bairns before you go!
Eh, let me fetch 'em, Arden,' and arose
Eager to bring them down, for Enoch hung
A moment on her words, but then replied.

`Woman, disturb me not now at the last,
But let me hold my purpose till I die.
Sit down again; mark me and understand,
While I have power to speak. I charge you now,
When you shall see her, tell her that I died
Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;
Save for the bar between us, loving her
As when she laid her head beside my own.
And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
So like her mother, that my latest breath
Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.
And tell my son that I died blessing him.
And say to Philip that I blest him too;
He never meant us any thing but good.
But if my children care to see me dead,
Who hardly saw me living, let them come,
I am their father; but she must not come,
For my dead face would vex her after-life.
And now there is but one of all my blood,
Who will embrace me in the world-to-be:
This hair is his: she cut it off and gave it,
And I have borne it with me all these years,
And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:
It will moreover be a token to her,
That I am he.'

He ceased; and Miriam Lane
Made such a voluble answer promising all,
That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her
Repeating all he wish'd, and once again
She promised.

Then the third night after this,
While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,
And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,
There came so loud a calling of the sea,
That all the houses in the haven rang.
He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad
Crying with a loud voice `a sail! a sail!
I am saved'; and so fell back and spoke no more.

So past the strong heroic soul away.
And when they buried him the little port
Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.

Afterthought about Che part 2

This one was very depressing from the beginning to the end. Everything was against Che, but most importantly he lacked the local support. I would hate to quote Mao, but one of his famous saying is incredibly suitable here!

"People are like water, and army a fish. The way army needs people is like the way fish needs water."

Che was claimed the great man behind Cuban revolution. He was also a theorist for guerrilla warfare. He had to know how important local support was. Sometimes, there are forces unseen. Che might have overestimated local support, and he underestimated USA's determination to not let second Cuba appeared in its own backyard.

To me, the movie was really detailed in recounting the events led to Che's death. Kind heart wrenching as seeing an idealist fall. That is the primary element for a good movie.

Afterthoughts about Che the movie 2008, part 1

Benicio del Toro started the film, Steven Soderbergh was the director. The movie was pretty good. del Toro was awesome. It does not matter to me what real Che looked like. Because when I was watching the film, I believed Che would act, speak, breath like del Toro's presence.

The ways the director present Che was quite interesting as well. It was like a question followed with an answer. The film started with an interview in black and white. After the interviewer asked a question, no matter if Che answered or not, the camera then moved into a segment where the answer was acted out in color in the time of revolution. By doing this, the director picked their favorite answer for the question. By doing this way, a hero emerged. Some of the accusations for being an assassin and butcher during revolution thus melted away.

For a person who knows so little about this part of history, I would rather be skeptic than trusting what I thought was presented to me. However, I cannot help being attracted to Che as a character presented in the movie. He was indeed a great personality. He was sharp in the interview, humble in front of Castro, respectful in front of the Cuban mass, but also knows how to lead them without losing principles.

I liked the film.

since the death

I cannot sing i cannot talk I cannot play i cannot stop bink eating i feel complete lost i even had hard time playing with my other cat i see dong dong everywhere i sometimes hear his voice i am increasingly irritated i could not put myself to move i am dead i am torn i cannot even feel my heartbeat i do not know what to do with my cat they were one but now two

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老殘遊記續集自序

　　人生如夢耳。人生果如夢乎？抑或蒙叟之寓言乎，吾不能知。趨而質諸蜉蝣子，蜉蝣子不能決。趨而質諸靈椿子，靈椿子亦不能決。還而叩之昭明。

　　昭明曰：「昨日之我如是，今日之我復如是。觀我之室，一榻，一几，一席，一燈，一硯，一筆，一紙。昨日之榻、几、席、燈、硯、筆、紙若是，今日之榻、几、席、燈、硯、筆、紙仍若是。固明明有我，並有此一榻，一几，一席，一燈，一硯，一筆，一紙也。非若夢為鳥而厲乎天乎，覺則鳥與天俱失也。非若夢為魚而沒於淵，覺則魚與淵俱無也，更何所謂厲與沒哉？顧我之為我，實有其物，非若夢之為夢，實無其事也。然則人生如夢，固蒙叟之寓言也夫！

　　吾不敢決，又以質諸杳冥。杳冥曰：「子昨日何為者？」對曰：「晨起灑掃，午餐而夕寐，彈琴讀書，晤對良朋，如是而已。」杳冥曰：「前月此日，子何為者？」吾略舉以對。又問：「去年此月此日，子何為者？」強憶其略，遺忘過半矣。「十年前之此月此日，子何為者？」則茫茫然矣。推之二十年前，三十年前，四五十年前此月此日，子何為者？緘口結舌無以應也。杳冥曰：「前此五十年之子，固已隨風馳雲捲、雷奔電激以去，可知後此五十年間之子，亦必應隨風馳雲捲、雷奔電激以去。然則與前日之夢，昨日之夢，其人、其物、其事之同歸於無者，又何以別乎？前此五十年間之日月，既已渺不知其何之，今日之子，固儼然其猶存也。以儼然猶存之子，尚不能保前此五十年間之日月，使之暫留。則後此五十年後之子，必且與物俱化，更不能保其日月之暫留，斷斷然矣。謂之如夢，蒙叟豈欺我哉？」

　　夫夢之情境，雖已為幻為虛，不可復得，而敘述夢中情境之我，固儼然其猶在也。若百年後之我，且不知其歸於何所，雖有此如夢之百年之情境，更無敘述此情境之我而敘述之矣。是以人生百年，比之於夢，猶覺百年更虛於夢也！嗚呼！以此更虛於夢之百年，而必欲孜孜然，斤斤然，駸駸然，狺狺然，何為也哉？雖然前此五十年間之日月，固無法使之暫留，而其五十年間，可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事業，固歷劫而不可以忘者也。夫此如夢五十年間，可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事既不能忘，而此五十年間之夢，亦未嘗不有可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事，亦同此而不忘也。同此而不忘，世間於是乎有《老殘遊記二編》。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　鴻都百鍊生自序

(http://open-lit.com/list.php)

point and lines

we are point and lines. we are both. points are us. lines are the relationship with others. each of us were born with a two basic lines, connected with parents, with siblings sometimes. these are the strongest link, especially with parents. it is usually the hardest link to disconnect. as we grow, the lines that connect us from other point(people) increased. That is, usually. but for the most part, the lines connected, they disconnected. to maintain the connection of the line is depend on many factors.

just some weird thoughts... for the boring mind.

Artist and his art

An artist sat in his room for a long time. A very long time. His mother was worried and came up to his room to check up on him. What are you doing? The artist looked away from the window and glanced at his mother in a dreamy state, obviously. There was no word. Do you need some food and water? Nodded slowly, the artist said yes. After she went out of his room, the artist closed the door.

For seven days, it went on like this. The door opened at last. there was a beautiful painting on the wall. The artist was so tired. His mom brought him some food and water like the past seven days. After the meal, the artist went on sitting in his room like the past seven days. His mother was worried. What happened to him? The artist stopped looking at the window. He now just stared blankly into the art he created. Still in a dreamy state. Do you want to go out? No. Would you like to watch a movie? No. It's Pete on the phone. Not interested. Don't you want to go out and bath in the sunlight? No. Why do you keep looking at the painting? ...

The hair grew, the bear grew, the nails were long. Mom was mad. She went into the room and smashed the painting! Why! What is it about the painting?! What are you doing to yourself? Look at you! You abandoned your friends, your life, you family, and yourself! Look at you! She stepped on the painting and stampeded on it! The artist was shocked by his mother's action! The sharp, high pitched voice shot through his ears! He jumped out of his seat and stood there. I was dreaming! Why do you shatter the only dream that I've ever had! But I don't understand! Your dream was to become an artist! No, No! My dream was to paint and die in it! What was that you were painting? Don't say another word! You ruined my dream, you ruined it! The artist sank on the floor, trying to recover the painting.

It was a girl on a sofa with a cat besides her. She was playing with the cat. The cat was so comfortable, he lied on his back and let her smooth through the soft belly. She sat side way on her lap and looked at the cat with a smile like there was no other person around. It was a red sofa, a yellowish wall with green curtain. A dim lit light, enough to show the colors but not enough to twist them. The cat was like purring. It almost felt like the purring sound was coming out of the painting.

chuck close

I watched the last episode of Charlie Rose's Brain series. Charlie Rose invited 2 artists to the table for the topic was about creativity. I was caught by one of the artists, Chuck Close saying that as an artist, he doesn't believe in inspiration. He said that artists cannot just wait for the inspiration to hit them like a lightening. He said that usually the way he works is to just start to work. Usually, along the way, something came up. It is like saying Action creates, doesn't matter if any idea formed beforehand or not. At the end, Charlie Rose asked, but there's still the question of why you guys are being you guys! There are tens of thousands artist out there. What makes you guys you? I do not remember a definite answer from all the people around that table. But I think does it matter? I do not see difference in these famous artists and a small child giddily creating whatever art. Other people's praise is some other people's business...

Something I feel I already know but lacked drive. I hate to say this. Rationality is useless for me here. I just want to be hugged to sleep and never get up again.

my borsch recipe

Preparation of the Stock:
Onion, 2 medium or 1 large
Bay Leaf, 1 piece
Any meat as you prefer, you can use bones as well.

Cook together for about an hour and half.
Pull out the meat, Onion, and bay leaf.
Or you could just leave the meat in there.
Cool it, so you could pick out fats.

Borsch:
Slice Beets.
Put Beets in the stock.
You can also add carrots, greased onions, tomatoes, and cabbage.
Few drop of vinegar, or lemon juice would be good too.
Finally Salt and Pepper to the taste.

It is served with some kind of cream like sour cream.
But I like the soup just the way it is.
Adding little bit of sour flavor is great though.

If I put in too many things besides beets, the color of the soup would not be as red, and the taste of beets would be compromised. Some may like it that way, But I prefer to have more beets flavor along with the deep dark red color of the soup. More pleasing to the eyes to me personally. I usually pull the Meat out after the stock is done. I am afraid of over cooked meat. Adding meat in later while the soup is hot is not a problem to me.

dong dong

dong dong died on 1/28/2011. he was shocked to death while vet was trying to put cast in him for euthanize.

you and her are now in my dream
in a yellow
dim light of mist
you rolled up in her arms
she on the sofa
fast asleep
while you purred on your back
embraced with two arms
in front of her bosoms
sweet dreams
i will wake you two
when i dream

國與朝, 還有中國這一名詞

不知道中國古代史家是如何界定朝代與國的?

我始終都覺得中國不過是文化名詞. 也就是以黃淮平原發展出來的文化. 中國本來指的就是黃淮平原一帶. 誰入主這一地帶, 誰就是這一帶的主人. 但是, 這樣問題來了. 歷來很多人入主這一塊地方啊... 依照傳統歷史, 三皇五帝都依序入主黃淮平原. 如果根據現代考古, 則這片土地上, 民族遷移的痕跡似乎沒停過. 那麼中國, 到底是地名呢? 還是文化呢? 我持文化論是啥原因呢?

根據我道聽塗說之後, 又因為記憶不佳而得來的結果. 我以為, 從中亞大草原, 一直到黃淮平原, 在古代, 實際上是一個大草原的文化. 大草原上, 雖然也根據膚色, 目色, 髮色, 語言, 風俗來分部族. 但是, 草原上遷移迅速, 移動範圍廣, 各部族混居到最後, 更容易由風俗習慣來看人. 也就是說, 如果你和我的風俗習慣相類, 則我看你就比較像我的同類. 雖說, 你可能是個白皮膚, 我可能是個黃皮膚. 這就是, 荀子勸學裡說的：「干越夷貉之子，生而同聲，長而異俗，教使之然也。」 這是大草原上的概念. 這個教的涵義裡, 在我看包括語言和風俗習慣.

這樣一個觀念在黃淮平原留下來. 由三皇五帝, 以致於三代. 至孔子, 此觀念不斷的流傳下來. 之後更被司馬遷說的很明白, 他說:

自黃帝至舜、禹，皆同姓而異其國號，以章明德。故黃帝為有熊，帝顓頊為高陽，帝嚳為高辛，帝堯為陶唐，帝舜為有虞。帝禹為夏后而別氏，姓姒氏。契為商，姓子氏。棄為周，姓姬氏。

國號者, 朝代名也. 此時, 能稱朝者, 皆是天下之盟主也. 其入主中國, 而號令天下之國. 入主黃淮平原者如何號令天下之國, 制禮作樂. 禮樂, 就是文化的表現. 其中有當時天下人所認同的生活準則, 可以承載天下各國各民族的風俗習慣. 在春秋戰國時, 這一認同已經達到了長江流域. 這裡已經超越了黃淮平原的地區. 但是, 在當時, 各黃淮平原的諸侯仍把楚國看作是中國以外. 因為中國一詞, 在當時仍是黃淮平原. 所以, 即使是孔子, 他仍稱周朝的官話, 也就是周國的話語為雅言. 他在念頌詩經的時候, 依然以雅言朗誦. 那麼, 這時, 朝和國到底是啥分別呢? 朝就是具有盟主地位的國, 而國, 很清楚就是比較小的諸侯.

在秦結束春秋戰國後, 秦廢諸侯, 而確定以縣為單位. 但是, 秦沒多久之後是漢. 漢是縣國並存. 後來又到了五胡亂華, 歷史上稱為五胡十六國, 最後變為南北朝. 這時候, 問題來了. 朝與國怎麼分? 漢朝以後的史學家在經歷四百年相對穩定的朝之後, 如何面對如此混亂形勢? 我想, 這在名詞上似乎滿清楚的. 五胡十六國, 和南北朝. 國者, 仍然小, 就算有大的國, 如符堅的前秦, 依然稱國, 因為沒有文化上的遺留. 朝則不僅僅國土大, 裡面風俗多, 而且有文化影像力. 中國在哪裡呢? 這時候, 是跟文化嗎? 還是跟土地? 以我殘弱的知識來看, 中國是以文化的姿態出現. 文化, 像是空氣, 到處都在. 即使是異族入主黃淮平原, 他最後的文化歸屬仍是中國. 而相對來看, 本來就是中國文化下的南朝, 反而因為不斷內鬥, 最後, 耗盡自己和時機, 朝代被滅. 但是, 他所代表的中國呢? 如果中國是土地, 則他早已不能代表中國. 如果中國是文化, 那他被滅的時候, 中國在哪裡?

文化啊, 那空虛的東西呀. 他是制度嗎? 他是語言嗎? 他是人性嗎? 他是思想嗎? 他是文字嗎? 永遠不要忘了荀子的話: 「干越夷貉之子，生而同聲，長而異俗，教使之然也。」 中國既不在血液裡, 也不在父母那裡. 一切只在人心裡. 文化可以使人強盛, 也可以使人衰殘. 北朝的五胡之民和漢民融合, 拓拔氏使用許多漢晉以來的文化, 他就是中國. 南朝繼續晉朝的內鬥, 還要加上南方居民的競爭, 喪失時機和鬥志, 他們也是中國. 既然都是中國, 那麼就要看, 誰能駕御文化. 駕馭文化者, 心也.

隋唐以後, 五代十國. 其決定因素, 似乎仍是: 區域多寡, 風俗多, 和文化影響力. 這一時期, 朝並不具有對國的絕對武力優勢. 但是, 他依然有相對的形勢. 以後一直到清朝結束, 朝與國的關係幾乎是類似的. 中國這一名詞, 就是漢唐明清在對外國的時候, 幾乎是不用的. 他們只是用國號來對外稱呼自己. 所以歷代以來, 中國人其實又叫, 漢人, 唐人, 明人, 清人. 這是繼續三代的傳統.

但是, 民國以來, 中國成了一個正式國號. 這基本上是個錯誤. 為啥呢? 因為中國從古至今都是一個文化單位. 幾乎都是一個文化單位. 現在濫用了, 那麼台灣, 還是一個中國文化嗎? 大陸以他的巨大稱自己是中國. 那他要怎樣看台灣呢? 它可以用他的勢力使地圖上少一塊嗎? 不行. 可是他可以使人們永遠搖擺在不確定裡. 而且, 當我們回去看台灣的文化與大陸文化的時候, 他們無差別嗎? 有, 且不是短期之內可以縮短到無.

可以這麼說, 中國, 被定為國號, 有外國壓力. 他使的很多中國文化的人感到壓力, 而形成一種意志, "我們"! 但是, 當現在, 我們努力學習西方文化的同時, 又發現, 他們自己也有 nation, state, regime, nation state...等等概念. 但是, 我們自己的朝與國的概念卻完全消失, 或著更明確一點, 他是去了活力. 好像一旦定義住了, 就永遠不能改變. 以為朝只是封建名詞. 所以我們改用國. 但是, 殊不知, 我們的情況完全不能和歐洲的觀念相比, 我們的語言文字也不能完全 1:1 的和歐洲對譯. 既然如此, 我寧可中國永歸文化單位, 而讓朝與國的觀念在度活起來. 以前朝是家族, 但是, 現在看來, 朝未嘗不能用於不同憲法, 不同主義下的政權. 國, 則每一個省其實就是一個國. 中國則仍是像空氣一樣, 他只能活在心裡. 而不能在外表.

獨臂刀和大醉俠電影感想

我剛看完獨臂刀, 張徹導演, 王羽等人演. 三天前我看完大醉俠, 胡金銓導, 鄭佩佩等人演.
整體而言, 我比較喜歡獨臂刀. 但是, 大醉俠有很多片段, 我覺得要細膩的多. 另外, 我也覺得大醉俠的選角要更好. 因為不僅僅是幾個主角很有突出, 就連許多副角都很有特色.

獨臂刀一開始我覺得交代的不夠清楚. 不清楚的地方是主角長大後的苦悶, 我不是很瞭解. 我只看到他被同門欺壓, 我覺得他應該憤怒. 但是, 他卻有另一種更深的困擾. 可以猜是和他父親有關. 可是問題就出在這裡, 電影一開始, 他父親就死了, 我完全無時間去深入這種感覺. 另一方面, 我感到一層隔閡, 可能也和我自己有關係, 就和我看不懂愛情戲一樣. 在故事情節上, 越到後面越交代的清楚. 雖說, 我覺得有些地方還是讓我感覺到在看一格一格情節. 即使如此, 在塑造主角的個性上, 這部電影卻是極其成功. 到了最後一個畫面的時候, 一個人物清楚的呈現在觀眾面前. 感覺到這時的他以不再是一個感情混亂的青年, 無論在愛情上, 武功上, 對師門的情感, 自己命運的掌握, 都有了一定的方向. 這電影成功的另一個部分就是講理很成功. 表現在台詞對白上. 師父一開始對兩個師兄和師妹的責備, 小蠻對主角的傾訴, 到最後主角為了救師門對小蠻的一番解釋, 都入情入理. 我覺得很難得. 很多非武俠片都不見得比的上.

大醉俠我覺得輸就輸在劇情上. 因為他的劇情其實更複雜. 其中還有許許多多要鬥智的地方. 但是, 劇組最後的解決辦法放在兩個世外高人身上, 造成了整部片子的敗筆. 實在很可惜. 而且, 片名為大醉俠, 但是, 我覺得我更關心金燕子甚於大醉俠. 結局上, 大醉俠的結局感覺上算是完整的. 不過, 我始終都不覺得那是主菜. 實際上的主菜我感覺我才吃了一半就拿走了, 換成甜點. 有點可惜. 但是, 我仍很喜歡不少片段. 尤其是金燕子出場的那一段. 我就覺得不僅僅是鄭佩佩很棒, 那幾位壞人更是出色. 可以算是很經典的一幕. 鄭佩佩向大醉俠請教的那一個段子也還可以. 金燕子的角色是滿成功的. 我想後來出了一些金燕子單獨的電影也可以說是其來有自吧.

Is unknow language a sound, or a language?

I like to listen to songs that I could not understand sometimes. I listen to Russian, Spanish, French, Mongolian, Turkish, Arabic, Indian, and many others.

Listening to them is a very different experience compared to the songs that I could understand the meaning in lyrics. I feel that some part of my brain is at ease. The lyrics that I do not understand becomes part of music, purely musical. I might follow the phrase at the end of each sentence, but I have no idea of what I was singing. To me, understanding is none existence. But somehow, utter the unknown while following the song makes me melted in the music as well. This is a weird feeling.

But there are moments that I could not listen to those songs. If I was not calm enough, for example. If I was very emotional, I could only listen to songs that I could follow. It is like follow the songs as if that helps express my emotion, which would be hard to do by myself. Could this mean that at those moment, lyrics are more important than musics?

So many things I don't know. lol

new idea on video games

I just had a new idea about video games. lol

I kept reading about brain science. The difference between left brain and right brain is interesting. I just had an idea of putting the players in control of the left brain of the characters in the game. The reasoning is like the following:

1. hardcore fighting is hard. it needs skills. mots people wanted to feel great but did not want to learn, or not able to master all the movement and/or lacking the reaction nerve. This is the reasoning for developers to steer away from hardcore fighting. they are trying to design a system where, people do not need to memorize complicated combo attack, players don't need to memorize the mapping on the keyboard/gamepad, and quicktime events are overabundant.

2. developers need to make player powerful and a sense of achievement, the best way to do it is adding some of the RPG, aka, stats gaining.

3. left brain is in charge of people's daily consciousness. it is broken, slow, and not intuitive. however, to compensate the above mentioned, it has a way of grouping multiple commands into a single solid form. and with practice, this form will be solidified. although as a whole, the now combined commands are limited, it is suffice to compete in a small time frame.

4. with the ability of left brain mentioned above, it is like a combo, where player could take over and control them. right brain is the automated system, like driving a car. and right brain is wehre, developers could design their magic, so to speak. putting many different animations, and things that players could just watch the commands on the screen...

5. the game would be like this, players control left brain. all the right brain could do at the beginning might be functioning through a button. as the RPG kicking in, players could assign more things to the right brain. the whole fight mechanic might just be completely different compared to the beginning. at the beginning, it might feel like Oni, but at the end, according to players, fighting mechanic could eventually evolve into something like diablo, you just need to click senselessly... for those who have no interest in fighting out, the right brain will do it for you. but for those, who actually would like to duke it out and enjoy a good fight, they could use the character's left brain to do just that. I think there should many options for players to decide what kind performance a player prefer. it could go far to the right, or far to the left, and there should have many middle grounds as well.

a study of myself

I think I have known myself well enough to do a research on myself. Where do I start?

First, I think I would like to define the meaning of "self". Since a person grows upon each passing moment, there must be many different "self". So for this article, I am going to write down what I know of myself, how I see myself, at the beginning of my 30th year of breathing. This should not include how I think of my past experience and action. Although my past experience and action brought me here and shape a large part of my self image. The reason for not including those is because I would like to look into mirror right now. If I looked at mirror right now, all I see will be a face, a sum of the results of my past experience and action. I am going to describe those results. That is my purpose here. My past experience and action would be another article.

I am five feet and 3 inches. It surprised me that I talked about my height first. I would always try to think that it does not bother me. I guess it does. I am a Chinese. I have glasses. I am not very pretty, at best, I am not ugly. Although I do not like to look into mirror and I do not like most of the photos I took after I came to USA. I can read, write and speak in Chinese. I also claim that I could speak, write, and read in English. Yes, I claim. I might be able to write the most basic English sentence without getting the most basic grammar wrong. I might be able to speak English, with incomplete pronunciation and accent. I feel that I blurt English words out too quickly with a voice no one can hear. I seemed to read a lot of English, but my memory of them is very poor. My mom read some of the books I read and asked me some of the things she could not understand, I found that half of the time, I did not understand either. So, yes, I could only claim that I am able to read, write, and speak English.

I feel that I am in love with a girl. But I also feel that I know it must be an imagined shadow since I don't really know that girl well. Plus the fact that I have not seen her for more than 7 years. It makes me heart ache to think that I do not really love her. I avert every girl I encounter. Although I feel I would like to know more about them. I feel I try very hard to keep myself away from them. But maybe it is not that hard. Since I have been trying to avoid girls for 7 years now. There are many reasons I myself formulated for doing this. The most basic one is I have nothing to give. I am extremely afraid of failure when I might be turned down. The current statue of myself, with no job, no skill, no income, do not know how to interact. There are always better person out there. I hate departure of people, absolutely Hate it. I will not be able to make her happy, safe, content. I also doubt my sexual ability. I love Nono. I miss her voice, her smile, her dress, the moments I met her in different occasions. But that is okay. I have my memories. I will always have Paris... lol

I always have big dreams when I first started to do something. I am easily discouraged though, very easily. I do not have friends. I might have somebody I could call playmate. I have a hard time making decision. Because you see, pro and con almost always equal themselves out. From this description, I feel I am too greedy. I want both ways. I cannot choose, so I stopped choosing. This is my theory for my difficulty in decision making anyway. It seems that I lack iron will to endure things. When I say, I am going to do something regularly. My promises flop usually.

I look around me, my room is disorganized to the extreme. I look at the clothes I am wearing, they are old and worn, except my pants and sucks. I have a hard time interacting with people. To say hi, takes some thoughts and preparation. And usually, I do not know what to say after Hi. When I see a person I feel I would love to say many interesting things, engage in some chit chat. I could not. The things come out of my mouth is awkward, irrelevant,disengaging. I feel I am just a person sitting far behind the back of my brain watching a bad movie. What could bring myself back to become whole again, is doing exercise, singing, watching a good movie, maybe some reading as well.

When I am with other human beings. I got a problem. How should I move around them? What should I say so I will not offend them? All these problems withhold me from playing basketball. Since I feel there is either I or them. It seems like a quest of decision making. Should I pass the ball? Or should I go for a layup? When I am not able to take an initiation to start a conversation, I could only listen and respond. This angers me. But to make a conversation, I think I need to be more relaxed. According to what I read about brain, my right brain needs to take over some load off my left brain. I probably feel a super strong sense of "I". But on the other hand, I feel I could see people's mood, I feel I am just watching them acting. If I see people around them, I could understand their feeling, their words as well. That sounds like a right brain functioning. Or maybe I am just guessing. The only thing I am sure right now is that I am super confused around people. I am very comfortable around cats and dogs though. But only the friendly ones. I feel sometimes I would flew into a rage if I met a nasty dog, or cat.

This it for tonight. I am turning in.

老衣服

作者: fanghua

那天我又穿起了母親的背心， 小女兒看了吃吃地笑了起來，說 “ 你好像奶奶！”.我知道她的意思是說我穿了母親那件背心看起來比較老，而不是我看起來像她外婆， 畢竟她最後一次看到外婆時才三歲，自然是不會記得我母親的樣子。

每年秋季來臨時， 我照例從收納箱中翻出秋冬季的衣服， 我和母親一樣， 喜歡鮮豔的衣服，即使是冬天的衣服， 也鮮少是寒色的。 母親六十多歲時還在小學教書，上課時， 她的穿著總是比她同年齡的老師年輕。 她說孩子們也喜歡老師穿著鮮豔的衣服，看起來有精神， 不喜歡看到頭發和穿著都是灰灰的“老老師”， 這和她的個性一致，明朗，有朝氣，她的頭發也總是梳理得光光潔潔，整整齊齊的。

可是這個情況在我出國後慢慢有了改變。 出國前媽媽剛退休，身體尚可以出去走走逛逛， 有時我也幫她買衣服， 即使不如從前那麼鮮豔， 至少都是些看起來悅 人眼目的顏色，酒紅的，紫色的，寶藍或竹綠的， 絕對沒有灰色，土黃色或咖啡色等寒色。 後來母親較少出門了， 衣服自然都由嫂嫂們打理。 有回我回去， 她抱怨那些土黃色， 咖啡色的衣服， 讓她看起來臉色不好， 我想可能因為那些是嫂嫂們的母親習慣的顏色吧。 有天早上， 我便推著一歲多的女兒去商店裡給她買了幾件暖色的衣服。 母親皮膚白皙，什麼色都合適， 換了暖色的衣服後， 她臉色果然看起來好了許多， 她的精神也來了， 還記得那天她難得地跟著我和孩子去逛傳統市場，也不嫌人潮擁擠吵雜，我們還在市場的小攤上合吃了一碗當歸土虱湯。


後來媽媽中風，身心俱疲，自然對衣服也就無法講究了， 嫂嫂給她穿什麼， 她就穿什麼， 而這件土黃色，橘色和黑色相間的背心，料子保暖又實穿，就是我最後幾年回去看她時，她身上最常穿的一件。母親離世後， 我看著滿櫃子她穿過的衣服， 挑了些她過去赴宴時常穿的旗袍帶回來，雖然華麗而高雅， 但是我只能收在箱底，偶爾才拿出來看看，只有這件背心， 年年拿出來穿。 在天冷又不出門時， 我喜歡穿上它， 感覺好像回到孩提時被她擁在她的大衣下那種幸福和溫馨， 那麼近， 那麼暖；更更重要的是在廚房做飯時，偶爾抬頭看見窗戶玻璃上映出來穿著那件背心的自己， 我彷佛再一次瞥見母親的身影，有點兒模糊， 卻又那麼的熟悉。。。。

(來源: http://www.smallstation.net/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=4863)

State of mind

Out of control. panicking, unsatisfactory, disgusted, lonely, fear, anger, shame, fear, cold, murderous heart, lonely, lonely, unresolved, regret, numb, dumb, insecure, shame, trapped, no where to go, on an unstoppable train.

out of control: I have a hard time to reign my desire.
panicking: future seemed to be unknow, but deep down there is a prediction.
unsatisfactory: always.
disgusted: must be me.
lonely: i want to play.
fear: windy in the night.
anger: explosive inside of me. fragile with a dip.
shame: speak no evil.
fear: done.
cold: ignore, boxed inside out.
murderous heart: volcano inside looming.
lonely: friends.
unresolved: to have or not to have
regret: writing this
numb: calm on the outside. make no facial movements.
dumb: move, you dummy...
insecure: what if?
shame: out of toilet papers...
trapped: old man and the sea
no where to go: are there safe?
on an unstoppable train: do I lose grip? or am I not able to?

外婆的故事

這是舅舅跟我說的一個故事. 他說這是外婆說的.

那時, 大陸剛剛淪陷一兩個月. 外婆懷著舅舅, 大概待產期也已經剩下一兩個月了.

這天為了要去看醫生, 走出蘇州市沙皮巷, 他們家那時租賃的狀元大宅去找黃包車. 找到了一個車夫在路旁, 他們跑近前跟他說要去醫院, 好像有一個外婆的妹妹跟著.

車夫看看他們, 很神氣的說, "現在解放了, 人民翻身了, 該你們這些資產階級載我啦."
外婆一聽, 氣炸了. 外婆的小妹可能還在旁勸, "他不載就去找別人. 別跟他鬥!" 外婆拗了起來, 硬是要評個理.

捧著個大肚子, 竟然跑去找警察問: "是不是解放了, 所有人都不用工作啦? 我一個孕婦要坐車去看醫生, 竟然有車夫跟我說現在人民翻身了, 要我這孕婦拉車夫去醫院?!"

警察和外婆他們找到那個車夫說, "你還要吃飯不?"
車夫說, "要."
"要, 那就還得工作啊! 你以為解放了, 就不需要工作啦?!"

言迄,　車夫才把外婆他們載去醫院．　　

古代採風

西門行
出西門，步念之，今日不作樂，當待何時？逮為樂，逮為樂，當及時。
何能愁怫鬱，當復待來茲。釀美酒，炙肥牛，請呼心所歡，可用解憂愁。
人生不滿百，常懷千歲憂。晝短苦夜長，何不秉燭遊。
遊行去去如雲除，弊車贏馬為自儲。


東門行
出東門，不顧歸。來入門，悵欲悲。盎中無斗米儲，還視架上無懸衣。
拔劍東門去，舍中兒母牽衣啼。他家但願富貴，賤妾與君共餔糜。
上用倉浪天故，下當用此黃口兒。
今非，咄！行！吾去為遲，白髮時下難久居。

Kids are quick

TEACHER: Maria, go to the map and find North America .
MARIA: Here it is.
TEACHER: Correct. Now class, who discovered America ?
CLASS: Maria.
____________________________________

TEACHER: John, why are you doing your math multiplication on the floor?
JOHN: You told me to do it without using tables..
__________________________________________

TEACHER: Glenn, how do you spell 'crocodile?'
GLENN: K-R-O-K-O-D-I-A-L'
TEACHER: No, that's wrong
GLENN: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it.
(I Love this kid)
____________________________________________

TEACHER: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water?
DONALD: H I J K L M N O.
TEACHER: What are you talking about?
DONALD: Yesterday you said it's H to O.
__________________________________

TEACHER: Winnie, name one important thing we have today that we didn't have ten years ago.
WINNIE: Me!
__________________________________________

TEACHER: Glen, why do you always get so dirty?
GLEN: Well, I'm a lot closer to the ground than you are.
_______________________________________

TEACHER: Now, Simon, tell me frankly, do you say prayers before eating?
SIMON: No sir, I don't have to, my Mom is a good cook.
______________________________

TEACHER: Clyde , your composition on 'My Dog' is exactly the same as your brother's. Did you copy his?
CLYDE : No, sir. It's the same dog.
___________________________________

TEACHER: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are no longer interested?
HAROLD: A teacher

No Sunday Paper

This is dedicated to all of us who are seniors, to all of you who know seniors, and to all of you who will become seniors.


"WHERE is my SUNDAY paper?"




The irate customer calling the newspaper office, loudly demanded to know where her Sunday edition was.


"Madam", said the newspaper employee, "today is Saturday. The Sunday paper is not delivered until tomorrow, on SUNDAY".



There was quite and long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by a ray of recognition as she was heard to mutter,



"Well, shit, that explains why no one was at church today."

不能忘的台詞

電影常常會有不能令人忘懷的地方, 有時候是某個角色, 有時候是某個故事情節, 有時候是鏡頭手法, 有時候是音樂. 但是, 在眾多的東西裏, 唯一可以為人們不斷重複在日常生活裏的, 那就是台詞... 當然, 不是每個人都會把電影裡的台詞都放在嘴邊. 可是當大家談電影時, 台詞卻是最好的笑料之一, 而且可以即興表演. 一旦有人念了出來那段台詞, 電影裡的畫面, 演員的扮相, 面容, 背景音樂, 場景色調, 故事情節等等也盡都浮上腦海裏.

舉例子來說, 如果有人提教父, 你想到啥? An offer you can't refuse? 如果有人提英雄, 我的腦海裏是, 好快的劍. 如果有人提 霸王別姬, 我想到的是我本是女兒生那一段台詞. 這樣講, 是否會有畫面浮上你的腦袋呢?

公無渡河

崔豹《古今注》曰：「〈箜篌引〉，朝鮮津卒霍里子高妻麗玉所作也。

子高晨起刺船，有一白首狂夫，被髮提壺，亂流而渡，其妻隨而止之，不及，遂墮河而死。
於是援箜篌而鼓之，作〈公無渡河〉之曲:

公無渡河，公竟渡河。
墮河而死，當奈公何？

聲甚悽愴，曲終，亦投河而死。
子高還，以其聲語其妻麗玉，麗玉傷之。乃引箜篌而寫其聲，聞者莫不墮淚飲泣焉。
麗玉以其曲傳鄰女麗容，名之曰〈箜篌引〉。」










1.《古今注》卷中〈音樂〉 〈箜篌引〉，朝鮮津卒霍里子高妻麗玉所作也。高晨起刺船，有白首狂夫被髮提壺，亂河流而渡，其妻隨止不及，遂墮河水死。於是援箜篌而鼓之，作〈公無渡河〉之曲，聲甚悽愴，曲終，自投河而死。子高還，以其聲語妻，麗玉傷之。乃引箜篌而寫其聲，聞者莫不墮淚飲泣焉。麗玉以其曲傳鄰女麗容，名之曰〈箜篌引〉。

2.《先秦漢魏晉南北朝詩‧漢詩》卷九〈樂府古辭‧相和歌辭‧相和曲‧箜篌引〉～255～ 一曰〈公無渡河〉，崔豹《古今注》曰：「〈箜篌引〉，朝鮮津卒霍里子高妻麗玉所作也。子高晨起刺船，有一白首狂夫，被髮提壺，亂流而渡，其妻隨而止之，不及，遂墮河而死。於是援箜篌而鼓之，作〈公無渡河〉之曲，聲甚悽愴，曲終，亦投河而死。子高還，以其聲語其妻麗玉，麗玉傷之。乃引箜篌而寫其聲，名曰〈箜篌引〉。」


公無渡河，公竟渡河。
墮河而死，當奈公何？


3. 影片中的歌是韓國歌手李尚恩在 1995 年唱出來.

silent slippery, boom

silent slippery, boom. That is what all I remembered about the last time I totaled a car. That was on a high way. I got very impatient, for the reason was unknown to me this day. I was driving my mom, my sis, and my mom's friends, Shu Ching from Kingdom Hall. It was lightly showered road though the shower had ceased. When I am driving with my mom's friends, or other people while my mom is on the car, she is always nervous. She would tell me to slow down, watch out, or be careful, or some other things. And I would get very annoyed. The more she anxious and uttering, I got more the angrier. I would never understand the reason. That's probably what happened that day.

I switched lane from second to the third. I did not think my speed was above 65 mph. The third lane came to a hold in front of me beyond at least 6 yard, I think. I tried to brake. I knew instantly what happened, the brake did not work, and my car started to slide, like a water jet on a lake. The rest was absolute silence. Until I hit the car in front of me and looked to the back seat for my mom and Shu Ching. I tried steer my car to the road side but to no prevail. Boom.

That was 7 years ago. I felt extremely panicky after reading my uncle's email about my mom's medicare thing just now. I have no idea why this silent slippery boom memory came up. I guess in a way, I feel I am in that situation again. Sometimes I feel I would like to swallow a bomb and let it explode inside of me...

Thoughts on Expendables

I watched expendables last night. I had a great time! As a no brainer action movie, it was awesome. All the casts were awesome, even Jet Li, although he was kind lame in there compared to others.

An action movie should be like this: a simple goal, actions has to have a real cause, emotions have to be felt. comedy is optional although I prefer it over something dark. I think the reason I liked the expendable is because, the interaction between the gangs were simple and humane enough; the plot line had good twist that caused the action to happen; the emotion was felt. All these above mentioned were not just means for eyes to catch something moving. The so called Action movie has to have some psychological impact, which caused our mind to agree with the action that was carried out.

There were some great scenes:

Fight between Steve Austin and Stallone, and how it was ended.
Randy Courture's fighting movement.
Terry Crews's big weapon and shaving knife.
Jason Statham is still Jason Satham.
Gunner Jensen.
Jet Li had some funny lines.
Air Plane assault.
"are you crazy?!"

It was just awesome! The only wish is to find a place for Jet Li. I felt that if the actor was not Jet Li, I would like nothing to improve. But It is Jet Li...

simple words have looming profiles on the wall

My cousin, Wendy, loves to read all kinds of things. She loves to explore and she has the ability and capacity to do so. She posted an interesting audio track introducing Federalist Papers from a CD, which is a college material for social science. I emailed to other people. One of them asked who's the professor for that track. So I emailed my cousin with the question. She kindly sent me the material. I did not know that it is college material at first. When I saw the attachment she sent me, I was a bit surprised. So I emailed her again expressing my surprise by saying, you must be preparing for your daughters, if not, I do not have words for you... Here is her reply:

"It is a college course. I am inspiring myself because I didn't have the chance to choose the major of my interest. ;-)

I borrowed whole course (cd) from library, and it is very helpful."

Simple words. But it is powerful, I think.

知命

論語最後一句話是:

子曰：「不知命，無以為君子也；不知禮，無以立也；不知言，無以知人也。」

命是啥? 我抄錄梁啟超于民國十六年在華北大學的知命與努力的演講. 梁啟超用三個來源:

"《孟子》说：“莫之致而者命也。” 意味並不靠我們去促成, 而它自己當然來的, 便是命.

《荀子》说：“節遇謂之命。” 節是時節, 意味在某一時節偶然遇著的, 命是命.

《禮記》说：“分于道之謂命。” 這一條戴東原解釋的最詳, 他以為道是全體的統一的, 在那全體裡面分一部分出來, 部分對于全體, 自然要受其支配, 那叫做分限, 便是命.

綜合這幾條, 簡單的說, 就是: 我們的行為, 受了一種不可抵抗的力量的支配, 偶然間遇著一個機會, 或者被限制著只許在一定範圍內活動, 這便是命...."

我不是梁啟超, 我對知命稍微有一點點感覺, 所以我現在寫下來.

昨天星期五我在 UPS 的車上, 要推二手車把四個很重的包裹推到一戶人家. 那四個包裹又重又大, 我又確定屋子裡有人, 於是我把它們放在車庫前面. 但是, 我看到包裹上有 perishable 的字樣, 我又看到屋子裡有燈. 我想做個好事, 所以就去按了門鈴. 之後, 我就推著二輪車回 UPS 郵車. 還無走出幾歨, 屋子的門打開了, 出來一個婦人. 他看到我就馬上說, 把東西搬進來. 我猶豫了一下. 因為我腦袋理閃過一個昨天的事, 那時我在客戶簽了名後, 又幫他放了包裹在那人門前. 當時我的 UPS 司機說, 要是他, 他才不理那個客戶呢. 我想他是開玩笑的. 但是, 這個往事卻真的讓我遲疑了一下. 結果我感到那個婦人不高興了. 我趕快又用推車把四個很重的包裹推到那婦人的前門樓梯下. 然後再一個個搬近他的屋子裡. 我的 UPS 司機看到了, 也來幫忙. 我那時是又窘又急, 因為我覺得平常我總是走額外的路到前門送貨, 如今這樣子好像我很懶. 另外, 我也不怎麼高興那個婦人一開始既無笑容也無友善表情的就叫我抬包裹. 我心想, it is not in my job description to do that! I don't need to go for that extra miles...

我想我真的是藏不住我的情緒. 回到車上, 我的 UPS 司機馬上跟我說, 有的人這樣做多半是因為他們有殘疾的人在家裡. 因為那樣的包裹, 多半是給殘疾人的食物包裹. 我想, 我是很幸運又這樣的司機. 他馬上看到我不高興, 說話來解我的不爽. 可是, 我還是不能高興起來. 我想, 要不是今天一方面是星期五, 另一方面我的腰在痛. 說不定我就不會遲疑幾秒鐘了. 我又轉念, 我這樣反應和動作, 有我的因素; 那個婦人那樣反應和表情, 自也有他的原因和理由. 我只能知道自己的原因, 而不能知道他的; 他也是同樣對我一無所知. 可是心裡究竟動了無名. 還好工作繼續不斷, 無名也只好拋掉.

這為啥讓我想到命? 就因為, 我知道我自己的背景因素, 但是那婦人的, 我無法知道; 反之亦同. 這樣的情形, 就讓我覺得這種情況或許就可以算是命的一個意義吧. 那婦人的言語惹惱我, 我自己也因為羞愧, 更是火上添油. 他的情況讓他說了如此, 由如此情緒說出. 我似乎感到我已做了許多, 而又有腰痛, 那婦人如此, 讓我感到不快. 其中種種, 我所能掌控的, 只有我的行動. 他也是一樣. 他看到我遲疑, 心中可能更增不快. 或者本來對他來說只是很正常的要求, 但是因為我的遲疑, 他也困惱. 各互相行其是. 其行各有其源. 雖如此卻又互相影響. 這種情況真是複雜. 但是, 說到底, 我們只能掌握自己的行動.

我老爸說我胸襟狹窄, 還是有點道理...

going forward, how

I am a writer. I write stories for myself. If people asked me, how do you sleep, a question my psychologist loves to ask. My answer was always good. It was not a lie.

I don't know when did this start, but it might start early, earlier than I would like to admit. My recipe of sleeping well is to make up stories as I slip into unconsciousness. It was intensified since my college year. At least that is how I remember now. I am writing this now because like the day I said to myself that my words had dried out. That was in my college year, probably last year. And now, my dream weaving before I slip into a real one has dried up gradually.

Those adolescent dreams. I have no need and heart to describe them here since they were both dry and boring. However, there was one point in the plot line which I was unable to pass through. I think it caused my dream weaving ability to dry up. I will briefly mentioned here. For most of the story, there of course were a boy and a girl. There were processes of these two got acquainted. They of course fell for each other. At first few stories, tragic endings of lives of either boy or girl assumed. After that, a few stories of unknown psychological reasons for boys, who were retarded in showing love. And as time went on, they all lost their chances. This one trend continue until now. I could not find a way to pass the barrier. It is a barrier too wide, too dark, too confusing. I could not find a reason to pass it. I had guts of feeling for those girls. But I could not rationalize to let those boys go forward. Although they were all better looking than me, stronger, smarter, more charming, more talented, taller...etc better than me. Some of them might actually got to kiss and hold girls for a while. But there were no way for them to be united forever. And this makes me crazy. There is no way to go forward! There was no results.

I hit a wall. I could not continue my story. So I created another one, and another one, and another one, and now I am running out of fancies. I don't have many fancies. If I could not tell myself a story to sleep, I have a hard time falling into one.

being alone, doing alone

I hate being alone. I hate doing things alone most. For me, the most fun is from playing basketball where I could contribute. For me, the most fun is doing something with somebody and at the same time I am contributing as well. But my problem now is that although I　ｈａｔｅ　being alone. When I am with somebody else, I feel totally outmatched, I am dwarfed, eh, how I hate that word, dwarfed...

I am working for UPS helper's program again this December. I tried to work hard. But no matter how much I did, or how hard I tried, I could not satisfy myself. There were always some mistakes. And some people always did more packages quicker. My driver is very good. I would like to feel that I did something well. And in fact, I did have that feeling last week until last Friday. When I did not feel outmatched, I always felt I was the best. Deep down, I can see the pattern. I could not stay in some moderate range, I could only see I am either awesome or terrible.

When I am with somebody, I could not talk. It seemed that it's not that I have words to say but could not utter. On the contrary, I have nothing to say, at least it seemed so. Is it because of my English? Is it because I feel fear of other human beings? I could not know. But one thing i am sure. I have nothing to talk about. When I am alone, I did nothing. Surfing online, reading some useless books... I have nothing to say, to show, to discuss with other people. Or maybe the only thing I want to discuss is something I read, books, online articles...all those far away from me as possible. There is no personal anecdote to share. There is no personal experience to exchange with others.

If I started to do something alone, would the situation improve? Like what? I don't know. Maybe I could take up drawing again? But what is the difference between that and reading a book? Well, reading a book leaves no print outside, drawing does. I don't know...how I hate that phrase too...

悲歌行

悲歌可以當泣
遠望可以當歸
思念故鄉 鬱鬱纍纍
欲歸家無人 欲渡河無船
心思不能言 腸中車輪轉



---------------------

李白

悲歌行

悲來乎，悲來乎！主人有酒且莫斟，聽我一曲悲來吟。
悲來不吟還不笑，天下無人知我心。
君有數斗酒，我有三尺琴。
琴鳴酒樂兩相得，一杯不啻千鈞金。
悲來乎，悲來乎！天雖長，地雖久，金玉滿堂應不守。
富貴百年能幾何，死生一度人皆有。
孤猨坐啼墳上月，且須一盡杯中酒。
悲來乎，悲來乎！鳳皇(鳥)不至河無圖，微子去之箕子奴。
漢帝不憶李將軍，楚王放卻屈大夫。
悲來乎，悲來乎！秦家李斯早追悔，虛名撥向身之外。
范子何曾愛五湖，功成名遂身自退。
劒是一夫用，書能知姓名。
惠施不肯干萬乘，卜式未必窮一經。
還須黑頭取方伯，莫謾白首爲儒生。

rereading a study in scarlet

I was young when I first read Sherlock Holmes. I don't remember much about the story. So I went to library to borrow it. But I guess the detective work has progressed so much, and the detective story is also been developed far more sophisticated. The main theme of the story was not that attractive to me anymore. Homes' skills in many things are almost common sense in today's plot line. The story behind the murder however, was pretty good. I was nervous about the fate of the father and the daughter. And when they got murdered, I did feel the revenge was justified.

It's kind disappointing to see a legendary book in my youth go down like that. And so do many things as well...

my mom's view on my writing

I have emails with my cousin and some of her friends. They talked about mostly what they read recently and found interesting. I joined through my cousin's invitation. She's nice.

I of course wrote some thoughts on some of the readings. They are talking about an article right now about Chinese should learn to repent privately, not something like a political confession in front of everybody in a public meeting. And by repent privately, Chinese could learn to build independent personality and think from themselves. The author is popular writer and professor in Mainland China. I was upset over some of the comments in the article about Chinese. I guess there's a big gap between Chinese who went through something as overwhelming as Cultural Revolution and those who did not. Their views on what is Chinese and what it meant in almost every old sayings are vastly different. At least they are vastly different from mine, a person who sits in front a screen, putting himself in a jail he made from thin air, and a person who is in the most populated Chinese place on this Earth.

I started to write what I thought. I was excited at first. But I could not really write. Because I very clearly know what I was about to write would definitely be frustrating to my cousin. I sat in front of the screen for 5 hours, I deleted every single entry. I emailed nothing. I was extremely mind boggling. There was something I really want to talk about. But I felt my words was going to be difficult to some people. I stepped out of the room. My mom asked me what did I do in there for 5 hours. I told her what happened. She bid me to take a walk with her. We discussed about it during the walk. It seemed to clear my mind.

I emailed my thoughts on the article the next day, privately to my cousin. It clearly bothered my cousin. For one she did not gave me reply at first but asked if I could share with other people. I did, and a long discussion commenced. My mom also asked how it went. So I showed some of the emails of mine and my cousin's to her.

After reading through many posts, She had a comment that shook me. She said that my cousin was really good at writing. She could explained herself really well, at the same time very smoothly, not offensive. She said that I did well too. But I did not express my meaning fully, there always seemed to have something alluding. I felt she also implied that I was offensive. I asked about it, and she confirmed it. I was kind upset. The one thing I did not want to be was being offensive. The one thing I wish to do is to express myself clearly. I failed both.

After that, I fell out of the discussion. I felt that I could not grasp the theme of the discussion and the article. I went very one sided. And when I went back to see some of the previous emails about other topics. I felt I was running circle again. The feeling of being trapped and that my perception of the things I saw was awkward, weird, within a very limited viewing angle compared to other people annoyed me deeply.

red cooking chicken

ginger, scallion, garlic
salt, sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, wine
Zanthoxylum simulans (also called: Sichuan pepper, Chinese Prickly-ash or Flatspine Prickly-ash)
cinnamon, basil

cut chicken into pieces
heat oil
put ginger, scallion, garlic in until flavor comes out
put chicken in, until the meat is white
put salt, sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, and wine in
put zanthoxylum simulans, cinnamon, and basil in
add a bit water
boil, cover, medium or medium high heat for 20-30 min
high heat until the juice almost dried out

方便

話說有個剛學過點兒中文的老美來到中國，中國朋友請他吃飯。

到了飯店落座，朋友說：「對不起，我去方便一下。」


見老外不明白，在座的中國朋友解釋說「方便」在口語裡是「
上廁所」的意思。


哦！老外意會了。


席中，有人對老外說：「希望我下次到美國的時候，你能提供些方便。」


「他去美國，讓我提供些廁所幹嗎？」老外納悶了。


道別時，另一位朋友熱情地說：「我想在你方便的時候請你吃飯。」


見老外驚訝發愣，這老兄接著說：「如果你最近不方便的話，那就改天………」


老外無語。


「………咱找個你我都方便的時候一起吃飯。」


老外隨即暈眩倒地。

泥古者

劉羽沖，佚其名，滄州人，先高祖厚齋公多與唱和。性孤僻，好講古制，實迂闊不可行。嘗倩董天士作畫，倩厚齋公題《內秋林讀書》一幅云：「兀坐秋樹根，塊然無與伍。不知讀何書，但見鬚眉古。只愁手所持，或是井田譜。」蓋規之也。

偶得古兵書，伏讀經書，自謂可將十萬。會有土寇，自練鄉兵與之角，全隊潰覆，幾為所擒﹔又得古水利書，伏讀經年，自謂可使千里成沃壤，繪圖列說於州官，州官亦好事，使試於一村，溝洫甫成，水大至，順渠灌入，人幾為魚。由是抑鬱不自得，恆獨步庭階，搖首自語曰：「古人豈欺我哉！」如是日千百遍惟此六字。不久，發病死。後風清月白之夕，每見其魂在墓前松柏下，搖首獨步，側耳聽之，所誦仍此六字也。或笑之，則隱。次日伺之，復然。

泥古者愚，何愚乃至是歟？阿文勤公嘗教昀曰：「滿腹皆書能害事，腹中竟無一卷書，亦能害事。國弈不廢舊譜，而不執舊譜﹔國醫不泥古方，而不離古方。故曰：『神而明之，存乎其人。』又曰：『能與人規矩，不能使人巧。』」

random thoughts

There are two modes of mind when I am reading something. The first mode, which bothers me very much. Because when I am in that mode, I could not concentrate on what is in front of me. Rather, I could only criticize it. From the moment I flip the first page and shoot my eyes onto the first sentence, I am not reading. Although I read every word, I am also weighing every single one of them. The result is very disturbing. I have a hard time to focus on the context. I am rather busying chatting inside of my brain. There will be broken sentences that I could distinctly remember. However, they seemed to be shredded, might even be taken out of context.

The second mode is when I am totally engrossed in the context of whatever I am reading at the moment. I'll most likely be in a place where it seemed that I am in the context, or it would appear that I am not in this mundane world. I don't criticize, I don't have inside chatting too much. What happened is that the contents of whatever I am reading filled my brain, like an air blown up a balloon. I feel relaxed and concentrated at the same time.

It is critical, picky, usually shallow, and focusing on expressing myself, rather than absorbing the material in the first mode. It is different for the other mode. It does not make me deep, but it would appear that I am more agreeable, more mellow. I would rather follow the trail. It is not that I would agree with everything I see in front of me. However, I use less language to formalize anything at the time I am reading. The two modes are not completely separated. But it is easier to go from the mellow one to the critical one.

傳統

現在仍有很多人在說傳統... 但是, 傳統, 有民族的, 有個人的, 有政權的. 所有的傳統, 有一個很重要的地方. 那就是, 傳統必須要是仍然存在的. 也就是說這個民族, 個人, 或者是政權如果仍在用這個傳統, 那麼, 傳統是存在的. 如果不用了, 那有啥統傳下來呢?

中國人, 無論是台灣香港還是大陸, 必須要瞭解一件事情. 那就是, 不能拿古代的經典來做傳統... 因為古代的經典往往很多都是矯正當時民族, 個人, 和政權的. 那並不是傳統. 如果要做傳統, 那時的人必須要改變後, 後人, 也就是現在的人也都有這個傳統才行. 如果沒有, 那就不是傳統!

我認為大部分的人所認識的傳統都是父母傳下來的. 而這個傳統的範圍幾乎不會超過六十年. 也就是說, 一個人在說傳統的時候, 他所認識的傳統, 無論是民族的, 個人的, 或者是政權的, 不會超過那個人生日之前的六十年. 因為, 這個傳統, 必須要是他真正看過的, 行為和思想. 而不是書上的...

那個不能行出來的傳統, 只是書上的墨水.