Tag Archives: humanity

From Dr. Seuss

8 Sep

drseussyouhavebrainsinyourhead

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Us happy people gotta stick together.

I depend heavily on my family and my friends whom I ask  to send anything on happiness, or their motivation, how they find it all in the name of life and being able to live it. I am very grateful to them for their participation. If you’d like to do so please…drop me a line.~FindingFelicity

Please check out blood.ca to find a clinic and give.

 

Clenched Teeth & Baby Faces

6 Dec

English: Beijing subway system Dawanglu statio...

China. Beijing. The land of many many people. They’ve got pulses. Hearts that feel.

So do I.

There’s a soft and steady tap as I walk under the bridge near Guomao (国贸); Dawanglu specifically. My only thought is getting home. “Gotta get home. Gotta get home.”

Guomao

I can’t lie, I’m excited about the 50 kuai bottle of wine I’m carrying in my right hand. It’s from Chile, Cabernet Sauvignon, specifically La Cara. Not my favourite, it’s not the best, but it’s a red and I always enjoy hongjiu (紅酒) . Let’s be honest here, it’s a $8 CAD bottle of wine. Ha!  Definitely not the best. But I like drinking wine…what can I say?

I’m content. Happy. And things are seeming to go my way. Maybe work is not as great, maybe now there are problems and my boss isn’t the best. Maybe the fellow I like isn’t answering my texts, or whatever. Let’s be clear:

I don’t care. Meh…

I come walking at my jet speed; I learned it from my mother, and then I see them. I’m crossing the Dawanglu bridge and I see them. A tall Chinese man, very thin, chasing a shorter man around a small three-wheeled tuk-tuk so to speak.  Another man comes, he’s holding something. Staring is something I’m good at. So I do. I grit my teeth and I stare.

The third man holds a hammer and he starts hitting the shorter man with it. The tuk-tuk belongs to the shorter man. How do I know? He’s wearing knee-pads and his coat barely fits. He’s barely living. He’s surviving.

Soon there are ten short Chinese men running at him and then the short tuk-tuk driver is on the ground and they’re hitting him.  Crow-bars appear from no where, lead pipes seem to pop into their hands. They’re punching him. Kicking him. I’m still staring and they see me.

They say ” Foreigner, she doesn’t understand.” (她不明白.)

I do. I understand. But what can I do? What can I say?

Now these thoughts are floating in my head. After-all I am foreign. I am a woman. I speak Chinese but only on a basic level. Are these excuses?  What should I do? Dear Lord what should I do? I stare. I stare and I stare.

I stare as they carry this man to a van. I turn away and I hear screams. That’s all and there are a few others who are staring with me. They are native speakers. A man and I exchange a long look. But he looks down and continues to walk. There are people who can do something, but it’s not their job. “Why do something that you’re not paid for?” Why stick out your neck for someone who potentially did something wrong? Justice. It’s lacking.

So what’s worse? A land full of people who won’t take a chance? Or a person who could have stuck out her neck and didn’t? I continue to walk. Damn. DAMN. I am so angry.

Subway: Line 1 to Xidan. Subway transfer: Line 4. Renmin University (人民大學). At the Wangfujing stop a baby runs on. His smile is as big as his pudgy face. Soon he’s crying to his mom, stretching his arms up, he wants to be held. Carried.

His eyes meet mine and we begin to make faces, well I do at least. I puff out my cheeks, make a fish face.  Yeah that’s right. I went from witnessing a gang beating, to making a little child laugh.

The cuteness of the situation dissipates and that adorable baby becomes the annoying baby. Spoiled, loud, crying. I transfer to line 4 and then I see a mother and daughter. They are cold to each other. Uncommunicative. They don’t even talk. I think of my family.  I consider my father, my mother, my older sisters and my younger one. How on earth could I not talk to them?

I’m plagued with what I saw. I care. I care a ton. But it’s not enough that I simply care. It’s not enough that I’m crying on the subway home. It’s not enough. My compassion without understanding, doesn’t help at all.

I’m overwhelmed with a feeling. Shame. Shame is all I feel now. Shame then, shame now. Shame at being obsessed with my damn romantic life, with damn money and damn materialism, with my damn happiness. Happiness. I am desperate for it and that short tuk tuk man most likely…won’t know it for a while. That baby’s got boat loads of it, and that mother and daughter will have it but won’t know what to do with it.

Shocked at my nativity, astounded at how ruthless and heartless humanity can be, I won’t pass judgement. I don’t know.  My uncertainty about life is heightened and my humility has deepened. I can decide to be better, but I can’t hide the simple truth; I am humbled.

Die ahead?

Die ahead? (Photo credit: cobblucas)

Related articles

Experience is a Teacher

25 Apr

This post really has nothing to do with living in Beijing aside from this fact: You take yourself wherever you go. Read into that what you will.

Let me be extremely and brutally honest with you. Sometimes I pretend to know everything there is to know about life. Wipe that look of shock off your face. You do it too.

Okay, you’re reading this to discover hidden truths? To laugh? To learn? Because I’ll be honest, I’ve no idea what to write, so forgive me if this post is a jumble of sentences strung together lacking flow. I guess my excuse would be that they’re representing my head and what’s going on inside it. Besides nobody thinks in perfect essay format anyways. Am I right or am I right?

Of course I’m right.

I’m going to focus on love, because sometimes people pay more attention and read the entire post if it’s about something deeply personal and reveals a truth about any phenomenon. There are only few people who understand the ones that baffle humanity. Most only pretend to know. I’m in the later half. I pretend to understand where it’s at. Oh I know about them in theory, but in experience? Nope, I’ve got zip. But then so have a lot of people I’m just a person whose willing to admit to you (or whoever reads this) that I am one of those very people.

Breaking it Down

There are four types of love in living.

Storge – affection
Philia – friendship
ErosRomance
Agape – Unconditional

I feel storge for my family and I feel philia for my friends. I feel eros for: nobody. I feel agape for my family again. What can I say I love my family in two kinds of love.

The top two and fourth, I think I’ve great experience with: family and friends. In the third category however there is a significant lack. Consider this an expose of a non-existent eros-life that belongs to me.

Romance in my life has been something of an enigma. I know what it means but have yet to know it really well. Am I special because I’m admitting this about myself? Nope. Doubt it, there are so many girls like me, who are having the same experience, they’re just a little shy when it comes to sharing it.

When it comes to romance, sometimes girls (maybe only me) picture this happening as it happens in a movie. Boy meets girl. Girl dislikes boy. Boy does something to show his brawn. Girl likes boy. Boy leaves. Girl chases after boy.

Boom!

They’re together after an hour and a half. If only life were so simple huh girls? Not so simple. But when I talk with my girlfriends who’ve discovered romance in their lives. Their main advice is to go for it, take a risk.
Awesome, sound (meaning perfect in this instance) advice. I agree wholeheartedly, but I’m also a huge coward when it comes to giving my heart a chance like this. I take risks! I take them all the time! But only when I know that my heart won’t hurt when I take them. The hurt one feels after taking a risk in love is an all-new extreme version of torture and pain.
What it comes down to is this: I’m a big talker/writer and one who encourages others to take risks in love, but do I? Don’t answer that one, its rhetorical. And you are too (big talker). We all are, I mean who knows what on earth we’re doing anyways? Aren’t each of us “waiting” in a way for another path in our lives to magically open and we’ll find the answers to questions that we’ve asked since the dawn of our existence?
This is what you call taking a snowflake and making a huge snowball out of it!
But seriously though. There are no rules, especially when it comes to love; nobody knows the answers. I’m here to admit that I’m the last one to know. Experience is indeed a teacher, but I’m in not-so-blissful ignorance.

But why am I writing this? Many reasons:
1. Slightly annoyed that there is a significant lack of eros in my life. (True)
2. Commiserating with others. (True)
3. Laughing at the joke of eros in my life. (True)
4. Love stories are fun to write about and laugh at. (True/False)

Tune in next time when I divulge the lessons I learned from my first date.

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