Dreaming of Autumn, 18 July 2008, Taipei

I fall
and gaze
at the pumpkin sky
on a bed of crackling blades

The wind cuts a figure
of my face
The clouds I fix
with an eye

Great mounds of cream
in a steeled pan
sliding softly to a
warmer
side
Their edges ooze
at a million points
that following strains to a sigh

To hold this season in
my view
is a folly
I'd known from the start
Sweet clouds too gooey
to bear any message
I close my eyes
Let the breeze play
Autumn's aria
for me

孔雀東南飛并序：A Chinese Romeo & Juliet

In preparing for my comprehensive examination in August, I've lately been reading some very old poetry. Some of it has been fun (eat, drink and be merry...and then drink some more) and some has been cliche (I love you with the passion of a burning mid-day sun--blah, blah, blah). Just today, though, I came across a narrative poem for the ages. All 好漢 apparently know this story well, but it's new to me. I've since decided to translate the poem, 孔雀東南飛并序. It's the story of a young couple torn apart by meddling mother-in-laws in an unjust feudal structure in which young women have no rights and no hopes. The young bride in this tale is tossed around like dirty laundry as she and her young husband attempt to keep their love alive while their families scheme against them for a more auspicious future that brings honor to their families but little to them personally. How will it end up? Think Romeo and Juliet. Here's the first installment:

Part 1:

A peacock heads southeast,
then hesitates to glance back home.

"When I was 13 I learned to make silks.
At the age of 14 I learned to cut patterns for clothes.
When I was 15, I could play the kong hou.
And at 16, I learned to recite the Classic of Poetry.
Then, at 17, I become your wife.
...
Because of this, I will always suffer.
(But not because of you). Even though you were a busy official,
your devotion to me was unwavering.
(We both know the real reason why:)

The cock would crow in the morning and I would hasten to begin my sewing,
never resting until evening fell.
In just three days, I could produce 5 bolts of cloth.
But your mother complained that I worked too slowly.
That could never be, though. I was never so slow.
Being the daughter-in-law in your home was so hard.
Your mother pressured me so.
Staying around held no promise or respite for me.
Please, I told you, go speak with your mother
and tell here to release me.
Tell her to let me return to my own home."

Part 2:

You gently listened to me,
then went and plead with your mother:
"You know my prospects weren't bright.
But then we found this wonderful woman.
We bound our hair and tied the knot, sharing the same bed and pillow,
swearing that even beyond the grave we would forever remain friends.
We've been together only 2 or 3 years;
Our lives have just begun.
And my wife has been nothing but proper and kind.
Why, then, do you think so little of her?!"

Your mother snapped back:
"How can you be so thoughtless?!
This woman has no idea what propriety means!
She puts on aires and forces herself upon you.
And I have suffered with it for too long--
How dare you cross your mother!
Our neighbors have a much finer daughter.
Qin Luofu.
She is beautiful, and her figure is unparalleled.
I have already asked her hand in marriage for you.
Now, get rid of that woman, Liushi!
Send her home right away!"

You fell to your knees and plead with her again:
"If today I am forced to let Liushi go,
I will never again remarry..."

Part 3:

Your mother listened to you,
then slammed her hand down, shouting:
"How can you defend that disgrace of a woman?!
I haven't an ounce of sympathy for her.
You'll never stay together."

You listened meekly and said nothing...
then, excused yourself and came home.
You slowly explained to me what had occurred.
Your sobbing hardly let a word pass:
"It's not me! I don't want you to go!
My mother is forcing this upon us.
For now, it's best you return to your home.
I must return to my duties at government.
But I promise we'll be together again shortly.
When I return home, I will come for you myself.
Remember that I love you.
Never, ever forget what I've said: I will come for you!"

I humbly replied:
"Please...don't say such things.

"I still remember the late winter of that year,
bidding farewell to my mother and coming to you.
I was diligent and cautious in serving your mother.
My behavior was sober. I was never improper.
Day and night I continued in such a difficult way,
sad and alone, but never complaining.
I was vigilant to make no error
to repay your mother for her good graces.
And then all of a sudden, I've done something that has cast me out of our home.
Oh, what will I say when I return to my father's house?"

The taoist temple up the hill

Just a...taoist temple up the hill from our house.

Somethin' s Fishy with the Humanities

So, as probably all of you haven't noticed, over the past couple of weeks, world-renowned literary theorist and critic Stanley Fish has been spouting his ideas about the value of the Humanities in the New York Times. The problem, of course, with his gushings is that they are not gushy at all! His extolments achieve at best a trickle. And those few drops that slip from his pen, he intentionally reserves for himself and other like-minded, self-minded literary scholars. Speaking about a poem he recently unpacked (that's literary jargon for "to explain"), he writes:

"Why do I do it? I don’t do it because Herbert and I are co-religionists. I don’t believe what he believes or value what he values. I don’t do it because it inspires me to do other things, like change my religion, or go out and work for the poor. If I had to say, I’d say that I do it because I get something like an athletic satisfaction from the experience of trying to figure out how a remarkable verbal feat has been achieved."
(http://fish.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/01/13/the-uses-of-the-humanities-part-two/index.html)

For Fish, then, teaching and studying the humanities is all about the personal rush of exercising the heart (not the moral one, mind you) and mind--just his, naturally.

"Me, me, me"--that transparent message certainly does not need to be unpacked.

Therefore, as a view on the value of the Humanities, Fish's isn't much of one at all. In fact, it seems intentionally designed to be an argument contra that very translation of purpose and value. A sort of humanistic anti-Christ: the value of the humanities begins and ends in him--"I am inclined to like it; I'm the miracle. What about you?" This of course, is an intentional political maneuver that Fish makes, he's not that self-centered (is he?), designed to push the humanities beyond the reach of realistic and concrete evaluative measures imposed on nearly all other departments, fields of knowledge and industries. In order to justify the continued pursuit of knowledge or production, that pursuit must, in fact, produce something tangible or, at the very least, quantifiable. Stanley Fish (and he's not the first) tries to solve this problem by refusing to acknowledge the standard by openly and provocatively claiming the worthlessness of the pursuit of humanistic studies. By rendering all worth to a simple personal confession, the possibility of the objective evaluation of the worth of the humanities becomes impossible.

Ergo, the humanities are justified and safe (?!) Self-contained and solipsistic, the humanities are nothing but their own end, untranslatable and answerable to no standard other then their own internal economy.

I don't know about you, but that just feels like a really poor move. In fact, it seems down-right childish and irresponsible. Aren't the humanities designed to promote more refined gestures of communication and rhetoric? Or is this just another trope meant to achieve a surprising effect?

Unfortunately, I fear it just may end up pissing people off.

On Education

A couple of things happened today that have brought me her to scribble down my thoughts on education, and if time and patience permit, perhaps even to sketch out what I feel is an ideal form of education. First of all, minutes ago I finished reading an editorial in the New York Times on the changing role of Latin (not the J-Lo kind) in an American education. The gyst of the article was rather predictable: the writer extolled the benefits of learning Latin while lamenting its reduced importance in a modern world concerned mostly with gadgets and positions. Politicians like Jefferson and Roosevelt who dedicated years to the study of the classics no longer exist. Modern-day public servants and their supporters (the general population) have traded in liberal educations for trades--for work. At that point, though, the article's rhetorical force fizzles out. It seems deliberately to shy away from making those grandeous claims about the positive psychological, intellectual and emotional impacts that studying Latin can have on an individual that might otherwise sway people to pause for a moment and ponder their own educations. He won't say it, so I will: Frankly put, studying Latin has an unbelievable capacity to make you a better person. Yes, that is right: you will think and even feel better and clearer. You will be superior because of it. And that result, the education of the whole human being, is what education should be. For some, that's precisely what it is.

Today, while reading the Mengzi (Mencius) together, my instructor, 徐老師, shared a personal experience with me that related to the text. He explained how as a young student he and a friend had read a certain passage in Mengzi and were deeply affected by it. The passage is a rather famous one (公孫丑上) and talks generally about how not to transgress your true nature. Mengzi, in fielding the questions of his student Gong Sun Chou, analyzes the system of expression and power and influence of the human mind. It sounds like quite a mouthful, but Mengzi has a knack for making complicated things quite simple: A single person's potential for power and influence is so immense that if he culivates himself properly, his spirit can fill the immensity of space. The maintenance of that power is based on the simple principle that a man's 志 (zhi)(his thoughts and intentions) drives his 氣 (qi)(the dispersion of his energies and influences--in short, his actions), and, of course, vice versa: 氣 greatly influences 志. To keep one's thoughts and actions healthy and growing, one naturally must be righteous and virtuous. If righteousness and virtue do not inform one's thought and actions, one's powers and influences will inevitably wane (其為氣也，配義與道；無是餒也). Beyond that, though, one must also practice a proper amount of self-control, that is not waste or expend too much thought and action (good or bad). One must contemplate reservation. At this point, my teacher told me how he took all this to heart. As a highschooler, he tried hard to be a good person, a good student. That attempt became a struggle and that struggle became a burden. Eventually, his mistakes disheartened him...and (I don't know, he didn't explicitly say, but I imagine) he put that task aside. This was his sort of half-hearted confession that Mengzi might have got something wrong. We sat for a couple of moments soaking in his experience. I then broke the silence: "Did you manage your pursuit of the goal? Did you manage your anxieties and frustrations?...Maybe Mengzi didn't get it wrong after all." The proposal sparked a little A-Ha! erlebnis (an "Oh, Yeah!" moment). The bell rang and we parted ways. We'll talk about it again tomorrow, no doubt.

Both of these experiences reminded me of what an education ought to be, the cultivation of the whole human being, not the least of which is his/her soul. They also brought to my mind the two indispensable modes of carrying that education out: the analysis of textual and human materials; the written and the spoken word; study and discussion/debate (dialectic, the Socratic method). Playing and struggling with words on paper and in the air help us work stuff out that has, is or will be happening in our lives. This process is education.

Now, pragmatically speaking, how does this translate into surviving or making a living? Quite frankly, the better, more intelligent and more mature a person you are, the more secure your occupation will be. But that isn't what a lot of people mean when they ask that question. They usually mean "getting ahead" or moving up the ladder of consumption of fine goods. Or, maybe they don't mean that all. Perhaps they just mean learning a useful trade so as to be useful to society. Well, why can't fixing a car, selling stocks or teaching be done on the side or even in conjunction with the education of the whole human? Why shouldn't an electrical engineer study both computer code and Latin? Why can't a plumber dabble in German or Enlightenment philosophy? A fine example of this kind of multilateral education is found in Chinese culture. In addition to the heavy emphasis on success in mathematics and the hard sciences, Chinese cultural requires their children to study English and their own classical language and history. While their execution of that form of education has its shortcomings, its emphasis of those materials, in my opinion, is spot on.

Un ángel desterrado (inspired by a recent event in Arizona)

Emmanuel shuffled his feet nervously over the gravel. The sound rang clear in the cold, desert air. Daniel gently lifted his eyes from his forearms and caught the light reflecting off of Emmanuel's worn boots. The leather in spots had popped free and was curling away from the soles. The air crackled again as Emmanuel shifted his weight. His lips fumbled over each other. He bobbed for a moment and then propped himself up.

"Daniel, ¿sabes que?," he asked turning his gaze to the starry sky. Daniel straighted up and looked over at the stranger. Glancing fire light glistened on Emmanuel's widening eyes. "Aunque no te lo creas, hay príncipes en el desierto. A veces pierden el norte y se encuentran aquí. Príncipes, niños afortunados come tu.... You...eh...ehh--prince!," Emmanuel sputtered jabbing his finger in Daniel's direction. "Pero, hay serpientes también, ¿sabes? Serpientes...eh, ehh...," he stammered to a halt realizing he had no idea how to make this out in English. He puffed and then abruptly poked his finger in the ground. He shifted to his knees and shuffled along, dragging a long, winding line in the cold earth. Daniel watched on blankly. Seeing the boy's perplexity, Emmanuel began to hiss and wiggle his hands, intermittently gesturing to the drawing in the sand.

"Oh, SNAKE!," Daniel spouted.

"Sí, esnake!," Emmanuel laughed. "En el desierto hay muchos serpientes, animales y personas peligrosos." Emmanuel paused and fixed his gaze directly at Daniel. "Pero aquí, conmigo estas a salvo. No hay serpientes. Aqui, todo está bien." Daniel squinted and finally shrugged. Emmanuel thrust his head down and smirked at himself. He stood up and stepped over to the boy's side. Daniel felt his hand drop on his head and kindly ruffle his golden hair about. "No te preocupes," Emanuel softly whispered. "Todo está bien." Daniel shyly lowered his gaze and smiled. It was the first time since the car accident earlier that morning that he felt safe. It was strange running into Emmanuel wandering in the middle of the desert, but Daniel knew now everything was ok.

Emmanuel's hand slid away from Daniel's head and back into his pocket. He gazed at the horizon.... Nothing yet. He grabbed some more dried brush and tossed it onto the bonfire. "Dentro de poco verán," he quietly lamented. He bit his lip and and shook his head in disappointment. He looked back over at Daniel. It was worth it, he told himself--it was worth it. Emmanuel turned his back to the fire and stepped out into the darkness. Away from the noise of the fire, he could hear the slow approach of vehicles on the desert road.

Le scuse d'un vagabondo moderno

Sono millenni che gli italiani vengono qui: Polo, Ricci, chiunque. Tutti venivano qui per aprofitare delle fiabe e delle mirabilia d’oriente. Avevano degli scopi grandiosi e la fortuna di mietere dei raccolti mitici. Però ora la situazione sembra essere cambiata. Siamo nel ventunesimo secolo. L'italia non è più come era a quell’epoca. Adesso veniamo qui per imparare la lingua cinese e non per poter poi esercitare il dominio culturale o religioso sull'Est. Anzi, la conoscenza che ora io ottengo durante questo soggiorno sarà dispersa a casa non quale una narrazione di mille storie fantastiche ma piuttosto come un libro di testo qualsiasi, informativo ma sempre un po' noioso. Imparo la lingua cinese per assicurare la mia validità nel prossimo futuro e per offrire la medesima opportunita` a migliaia di ragazzi italiani che non possono saperlo, che spesso si rinchiudono nelle fortezze immaginarie dei loro bei paesi. Perciò forse si dirà che il mio incarico sembra un poco platonico: portare la luce ai prigionieri--balle! Comunque, odio Platone. Si prendeva troppo sul serio. Quando mai oserei dire di distribuire conoscenza salvifica alle masse?! Sciocchezze. Stiamo parlando della realtà ragazzi, non dell'aldilà di un'esistenza astratta. Se vogliamo abbinare la nostra esistenza peninsulare con una realtà globale più ampia, bisogna digerire e diffondere una conoscenza Han. Per quanto mi riguarda, non voglio sminuire con un paese che rimpiccolisce sempre di più. Spero che tanto come ai tempi antichi, l'oriente ci sappia ispirare vita nuova. Altrimenti, quale valore avrà? Dico, per me—per noi!