As night falls
I am disturbed by your screaming
as night falls,
but more by the silences
that punctuate your sleep-lapped, mare-tipped dreams, and
seeking congress with your wide-eyed wisdom,
I whisper that you must believe
the sun will rise on yet another day.
You ask “What if you were I and I were you?”,
but there are no simple questions
only easy answers,
no black or white,
just merging shades of orange, red and violet
and black; a baby knows more than this dying man
of truth and love and freedom, with each birth you further figure out,
each time the night falls quickly from horizon
up, you see the moon’s as high as sun will ever get.
I know you’re hurting, screaming,
waiting in your cave
for the invention of love;
’til then, I’ll tread water in your tears
and whisper that you must believe,
I’ll write “with fondest feelings” in my will,
signed and post-dated once my sanity’s returned.
’Til then, I’ll gently rock you into sleep.
Thursday, 27 January 2011
Monday, 17 January 2011
Saisiyat aboriginal dancing
Dancing the Nights Away
– Joining Taiwan’s Saisiyat ethnic minority for a three-day religious festival
my second piece for GT (http://life.globaltimes.cn/life/2011-01/612864.html), though it used a different headline and, indeed a different photo of a different ethnicity dancing in a different location at a different time of the day
According to the legend of the Saisiyat people living in the mountains of Taiwan's Hsinchu and Miaoli counties, their ancestors accidentally exterminated a tribe of dwarf people from whom they had learned hunting, farming, brewing and other skills. To atone for this deed, at the full moon in the tenth lunar month every second year, they invite the spirits of this lost tribe to a three-day festival of singing, dancing, traditional foods and drinking their home-brewed millet wine. The Global Times recently went to find out more.
The 14 extant ethnic groups of Taiwan Aborigines comprise less than 2 percent of the island's total population, yet over four centuries' migration of Han-Chinese and the resulting social and political dominance, each has managed to preserve its identity, language and traditions.
One such tradition is the Pasta'ai (Dwarf Spirit Festival) of the approximately 5,000 Saisiyat people. It is held biennially in their home villages in the Nanzhuang Township of Miaoli County and Wufeng Township of Hsinchu County in the Xueshan Mountain Range of northwest Taiwan.
For decades it was a little-known, almost secretive event, but recently it has opened up to the outside world. And although at times this might look like just a booze-up, visitors are reminded that it is a religious rite and are asked to be respectful and well behaved. Immediately after having arrived, for example, locals and outsiders alike must call at a makeshift altar. Here, for a small cash donation, a sacred silver leaf is tied around their forehead or upper arm (and another around any camera or recording equipment).
Visitors may then enter the festival ground, but, for now, only Saisiyat tribe members may join in the dancing. Wearing self-made hand-stitched vests and other garments in the tribe's distinctive red-and-white colors, dancers link arms in long lines and perform a swaying backward-and-forward movement. This is designed to accentuate the movement of the rear, thereby creating a percussive rhythm on the "buttock bells" hung on the small of their backs. All the time the performers sing of their sorrow and gratitude to the spirits, and appeal for forgiveness.
Wiping out the dwarf people – said to measure just three feet tall – was not intentional, they chant. According to oral tradition, passed down from generation to generation in this three-day event, the tragedy occurred after just such a party as this.
Originally invited in gratitude for teaching the Saisiyat to hunt and farm, the Ta'ai, as the dwarves were known, had to cross a rushing river to attend their neighbors' annual harvest festival. Renowned for their singing and dancing as well as their warfare and magic arts, the Ta'ai were also infamous for their womanizing. Pregnancies often followed their visit, but the Saisiyat were too afraid to do anything about it.
Except on one occasion, when a young Saisiyat warrior, seeking revenge for the sullied reputation of his sister, sawed a notch from the log bridge used by the Ta'ai when returning home. His plan was too successful, and all but an elderly couple of dwarves were killed; the Saisiyat have been singing and dancing in atonement since.
For the first few hours each evening as the local Aborigines dance, outsiders watch, listen, take photos, purchase snacks and, above all, toast – and are toasted – with xiao-mi jiu (millet wine).
This fermented millet drink is of low strength (usually around 4 percent to 5 percent alcohol) but may be pepped up with grain alcohol. It is produced by the locals and bears no government-approved label denoting ingredients and strength, so visitors are advised to be cautious. Purchasing a bottle or two is recommended, however, as the hospitable Saisiyat constantly share from their own, and not to return the favor would be seen as rude. Many of the stalls selling the home brew provide free samples, so it is possible to choose a pleasantly fragrant version that is hopefully not too strong.
Foods are sold at the same stalls that surround the dance field, and at impromptu restaurants erected in one or two side alleys. Slate-roasted "boar" – likely just pork but possibly locally reared – and more exotic meats such pigeon or other small birds, plus a range of unusual high-altitude vegetables not found in city markets, attract particular attention. Sampling mountain fare has become popular with Taiwan's largely urban population over the last decade or two.
Indeed, the interest of the majority Han Chinese community in all things Aboriginal has mushroomed since the end of martial law in 1987 ushered in a new era of pluralist culture.
Moreover, when the island moved to a five-day working week in the late 1990s, citizens suddenly had the opportunity on long weekends to explore places and cultures they had hitherto only seen in television documentaries and travel programs.
Perhaps the opening up of the Pasta'ai to non-Saisiyat visitors should be seen in this context. And for those with sufficient time, participation in the event can be combined with walking in the nearby hills, visiting the Buddhist cave temples on neighboring Shitoushan (Lion's Head Mountain), or browsing the historic Hakka community of Beipu.
Staying in a local minsu (homestay) is a good way to learn more about the traditional community and Taiwan's Aboriginal culture. In particular, one can learn about the original anito spirit worship of the Saisiyat people, and how they view these traditions today after conversion, like most of Taiwan's Aborigines, to Christianity by Western missionaries.
Many younger revelers bring tents, however, or simply crash out on spare ground within walking distance of the festival site. This is mainly because the hours of dancing and drinking (alcohol is served by cup and ladle to the performers so they don't even need to break step) have taken their toll. At daylight, those still on their feet may stop dancing and find a place to sleep. But only until night falls again, when the Ta'ai spirits reappear and must, once again, be appeased – with more wine, dance and song.
– Joining Taiwan’s Saisiyat ethnic minority for a three-day religious festival
my second piece for GT (http://life.globaltimes.cn/life/2011-01/612864.html), though it used a different headline and, indeed a different photo of a different ethnicity dancing in a different location at a different time of the day
According to the legend of the Saisiyat people living in the mountains of Taiwan's Hsinchu and Miaoli counties, their ancestors accidentally exterminated a tribe of dwarf people from whom they had learned hunting, farming, brewing and other skills. To atone for this deed, at the full moon in the tenth lunar month every second year, they invite the spirits of this lost tribe to a three-day festival of singing, dancing, traditional foods and drinking their home-brewed millet wine. The Global Times recently went to find out more.
The 14 extant ethnic groups of Taiwan Aborigines comprise less than 2 percent of the island's total population, yet over four centuries' migration of Han-Chinese and the resulting social and political dominance, each has managed to preserve its identity, language and traditions.
One such tradition is the Pasta'ai (Dwarf Spirit Festival) of the approximately 5,000 Saisiyat people. It is held biennially in their home villages in the Nanzhuang Township of Miaoli County and Wufeng Township of Hsinchu County in the Xueshan Mountain Range of northwest Taiwan.
For decades it was a little-known, almost secretive event, but recently it has opened up to the outside world. And although at times this might look like just a booze-up, visitors are reminded that it is a religious rite and are asked to be respectful and well behaved. Immediately after having arrived, for example, locals and outsiders alike must call at a makeshift altar. Here, for a small cash donation, a sacred silver leaf is tied around their forehead or upper arm (and another around any camera or recording equipment).
Visitors may then enter the festival ground, but, for now, only Saisiyat tribe members may join in the dancing. Wearing self-made hand-stitched vests and other garments in the tribe's distinctive red-and-white colors, dancers link arms in long lines and perform a swaying backward-and-forward movement. This is designed to accentuate the movement of the rear, thereby creating a percussive rhythm on the "buttock bells" hung on the small of their backs. All the time the performers sing of their sorrow and gratitude to the spirits, and appeal for forgiveness.
Wiping out the dwarf people – said to measure just three feet tall – was not intentional, they chant. According to oral tradition, passed down from generation to generation in this three-day event, the tragedy occurred after just such a party as this.
Originally invited in gratitude for teaching the Saisiyat to hunt and farm, the Ta'ai, as the dwarves were known, had to cross a rushing river to attend their neighbors' annual harvest festival. Renowned for their singing and dancing as well as their warfare and magic arts, the Ta'ai were also infamous for their womanizing. Pregnancies often followed their visit, but the Saisiyat were too afraid to do anything about it.
Except on one occasion, when a young Saisiyat warrior, seeking revenge for the sullied reputation of his sister, sawed a notch from the log bridge used by the Ta'ai when returning home. His plan was too successful, and all but an elderly couple of dwarves were killed; the Saisiyat have been singing and dancing in atonement since.
For the first few hours each evening as the local Aborigines dance, outsiders watch, listen, take photos, purchase snacks and, above all, toast – and are toasted – with xiao-mi jiu (millet wine).
This fermented millet drink is of low strength (usually around 4 percent to 5 percent alcohol) but may be pepped up with grain alcohol. It is produced by the locals and bears no government-approved label denoting ingredients and strength, so visitors are advised to be cautious. Purchasing a bottle or two is recommended, however, as the hospitable Saisiyat constantly share from their own, and not to return the favor would be seen as rude. Many of the stalls selling the home brew provide free samples, so it is possible to choose a pleasantly fragrant version that is hopefully not too strong.
Foods are sold at the same stalls that surround the dance field, and at impromptu restaurants erected in one or two side alleys. Slate-roasted "boar" – likely just pork but possibly locally reared – and more exotic meats such pigeon or other small birds, plus a range of unusual high-altitude vegetables not found in city markets, attract particular attention. Sampling mountain fare has become popular with Taiwan's largely urban population over the last decade or two.
Indeed, the interest of the majority Han Chinese community in all things Aboriginal has mushroomed since the end of martial law in 1987 ushered in a new era of pluralist culture.
Moreover, when the island moved to a five-day working week in the late 1990s, citizens suddenly had the opportunity on long weekends to explore places and cultures they had hitherto only seen in television documentaries and travel programs.
Perhaps the opening up of the Pasta'ai to non-Saisiyat visitors should be seen in this context. And for those with sufficient time, participation in the event can be combined with walking in the nearby hills, visiting the Buddhist cave temples on neighboring Shitoushan (Lion's Head Mountain), or browsing the historic Hakka community of Beipu.
Staying in a local minsu (homestay) is a good way to learn more about the traditional community and Taiwan's Aboriginal culture. In particular, one can learn about the original anito spirit worship of the Saisiyat people, and how they view these traditions today after conversion, like most of Taiwan's Aborigines, to Christianity by Western missionaries.
Many younger revelers bring tents, however, or simply crash out on spare ground within walking distance of the festival site. This is mainly because the hours of dancing and drinking (alcohol is served by cup and ladle to the performers so they don't even need to break step) have taken their toll. At daylight, those still on their feet may stop dancing and find a place to sleep. But only until night falls again, when the Ta'ai spirits reappear and must, once again, be appeased – with more wine, dance and song.
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
new verse
last night i broke open an egg and found a double yolk,
which hasn't happened in a long time (if ever)
broke open the egg and found a poem too:
雙黃房
很晚
很累
但是肚子有點餓
想炒個蛋炒飯
沒有米
但有馬鈴薯
好
炒個蛋炒馬鈴薯
蒸薯
爆香
破蛋
哇妳說
就像我們
雙黃蛋在雙黃房
which hasn't happened in a long time (if ever)
broke open the egg and found a poem too:
雙黃房
很晚
很累
但是肚子有點餓
想炒個蛋炒飯
沒有米
但有馬鈴薯
好
炒個蛋炒馬鈴薯
蒸薯
爆香
破蛋
哇妳說
就像我們
雙黃蛋在雙黃房
Sunday, 9 January 2011
new (light) verse
Being marked Mark, I am eponymous,
with Mark Anthony, I'm homonymous,
Marc Chagall and I are paronymous,
with check off, I'm just synonymous.
Unrecorded makes me antonymous,
unremarkable, and hence anonymous,
Yours sincerely, The Shark,
I sign off, pseudonymous.
with Mark Anthony, I'm homonymous,
Marc Chagall and I are paronymous,
with check off, I'm just synonymous.
Unrecorded makes me antonymous,
unremarkable, and hence anonymous,
Yours sincerely, The Shark,
I sign off, pseudonymous.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
on all things floral (except perhaps flowers)
first piece for global times (http://life.globaltimes.cn/art/2010-12/603746_2.html):
A child scans her bracelet in front of a sensor and a "flower" appears. It moves quickly onto a large screen, and is "planted" in a virtual "garden" with hundreds of others. Thus ends her visit to the Pavilion of Dreams, to the most popular exhibit at the Taipei International Flora Expo.
Set to use several million real plants (and countless such virtual ones) over its six-month run, the expo introduces visitors to the science, economics and aesthetics of various things botanical. Jointly sponsored by Taipei City and Taiwan's central government, it uses 91.8 hectares of public facilities - including the Dajia Riverside Park, the Children's Recreation Center, the Taipei Fine Arts Museum (the city's top cultural body), the long-disused Zhongshan Soccer Stadium, and historic buildings such as the Lin An-tai Historical Residence.
Expected to draw nearly 8 million people, the expo is the biggest event ever organized by Taiwan, with a population of just 23 million.
Most visitors enter at the western Yuanshan Park, and first pass the Floral Rainbow in the outside grandstand of the transformed soccer stadium. Inside, there would be held a series of six one-month-long competitions between nations, counties and private companies. Across the road in the Fine Arts Park, 22 countries will keep their exhibitions on for the entire six months in the Global Garden Area.
"This is one of my favorite parts of the Expo," the man in charge, General Producer Ting His-yung, told the Global Times. "In a small space I can see the designs of different cultures and understand the different ways in which different people think."
Another favorite exhibit is located on the stairway between the first and second floors in the Pavilion of Future in the expo's third area, the Xinsheng Park. This starts with flora from the shores of the Penghu Islands, and leads visitors through the vegetation common at increasing altitudes, until one reaches Taiwan's highest mountain, Yushan, standing 3952 meters above sea level and sparsely covered with alpine plants.
Ting also spoke of Taiwan's changing climate during the expo's half-year run, when temperatures will rise from -15 C to around 25. Combined with Taiwan's humidity and spring rains, such weather conditions are good for growing a wide variety of plants, he said.
Opportunities to take boats in Taiwan are surprisingly few considering no place is far from the sea. So, the highlight of the Dajia Riverside Park, the expo's fourth and final area, for many visitors is a boat ride along the Keelung River. This - as well as the Monet exhibition at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum - is the only attraction not included in the NT$300 ($10) combined ticket to the expo; and, at NT$80-250, it is not cheap. The trick is to chat up others queuing for tickets, since group tickets start at NT$40 per person.
Another idea is to start one's visit here, the most easterly point of the expo, as visitors are fewer and the queues shorter, taking less than the 1-2 hours for getting into some of the more popular pavilions. Shuttle buses run to six points within the expo, while free buses ply the outside gates.
The most important "local knowledge," however, is that the expo operates a reservation-ticket system, by which ordinary ticket holders must re-apply to visit the five most popular attractions. These secondary tickets are limited to a total of about 25,000 per day, meaning that at least half of all visitors will see none of the key pavilions. Early media reports focused on complaints by disgruntled ticket holders who were denied access to various pavilions. Ting dismissed these as a case of his fellow Taiwanese not grasping the workings of a world-class event of this sort.
It is essential, therefore, to read up on the expo and plan one's visit in advance, arrive before the gates open at 9 am, and get in line for the one or two top priority sights.
The five reservation-required pavilions are the Taipei Story House, a mock-Tudor building dating from Taiwan's trade with the West in the late 19th century; the Celebrity's House, dedicated to singer Teresa Teng; the Pavilion of Regimen, with its collection of bonsai; the Expo Theater, which shows a short 3D animated film about human impact on Taiwan's fragile natural environment; and the Pavilion of Dreams, with its display of the latest innovations loosely linked to botanical themes.
The expo has almost 7,000 artistic performances, ranging from community troupes to some of Taiwan's leading international-standard dance and musical ensembles. If seeing one or more of these is on one's list, then finding their times and locations and getting a seat in advance will also be necessary.
Many of the pavilions have been designed using cutting-edge technology in keeping with the expo's commitment to "3G" (green buildings, green transportation and green technology) and "3R" (reduce, recycle and re-use).
The highpoint of this is perhaps the FE EcoARK, appearing at the expo as the Pavilion of Fashion, constructed largely of bamboo and recycled PET bottles, which its creator claims set seven world records, including as the first wide-span exhibition hall with a zero-carbon footprint.
It is the only pavilion that will not remain on site after the expo. The other 13 will all remain - though their future uses are yet undecided - in what Ting refers to as "the expo's legacy for the city of Taipei".
As for the reason for holding the event at all, Ting, an academic with a 25-year passion for expos, said it was designed to showcase four of Taiwan's strengths: "Our technological power, agricultural power - including horticultural - cultural power and environmental protection power."
A child scans her bracelet in front of a sensor and a "flower" appears. It moves quickly onto a large screen, and is "planted" in a virtual "garden" with hundreds of others. Thus ends her visit to the Pavilion of Dreams, to the most popular exhibit at the Taipei International Flora Expo.
Set to use several million real plants (and countless such virtual ones) over its six-month run, the expo introduces visitors to the science, economics and aesthetics of various things botanical. Jointly sponsored by Taipei City and Taiwan's central government, it uses 91.8 hectares of public facilities - including the Dajia Riverside Park, the Children's Recreation Center, the Taipei Fine Arts Museum (the city's top cultural body), the long-disused Zhongshan Soccer Stadium, and historic buildings such as the Lin An-tai Historical Residence.
Expected to draw nearly 8 million people, the expo is the biggest event ever organized by Taiwan, with a population of just 23 million.
Most visitors enter at the western Yuanshan Park, and first pass the Floral Rainbow in the outside grandstand of the transformed soccer stadium. Inside, there would be held a series of six one-month-long competitions between nations, counties and private companies. Across the road in the Fine Arts Park, 22 countries will keep their exhibitions on for the entire six months in the Global Garden Area.
"This is one of my favorite parts of the Expo," the man in charge, General Producer Ting His-yung, told the Global Times. "In a small space I can see the designs of different cultures and understand the different ways in which different people think."
Another favorite exhibit is located on the stairway between the first and second floors in the Pavilion of Future in the expo's third area, the Xinsheng Park. This starts with flora from the shores of the Penghu Islands, and leads visitors through the vegetation common at increasing altitudes, until one reaches Taiwan's highest mountain, Yushan, standing 3952 meters above sea level and sparsely covered with alpine plants.
Ting also spoke of Taiwan's changing climate during the expo's half-year run, when temperatures will rise from -15 C to around 25. Combined with Taiwan's humidity and spring rains, such weather conditions are good for growing a wide variety of plants, he said.
Opportunities to take boats in Taiwan are surprisingly few considering no place is far from the sea. So, the highlight of the Dajia Riverside Park, the expo's fourth and final area, for many visitors is a boat ride along the Keelung River. This - as well as the Monet exhibition at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum - is the only attraction not included in the NT$300 ($10) combined ticket to the expo; and, at NT$80-250, it is not cheap. The trick is to chat up others queuing for tickets, since group tickets start at NT$40 per person.
Another idea is to start one's visit here, the most easterly point of the expo, as visitors are fewer and the queues shorter, taking less than the 1-2 hours for getting into some of the more popular pavilions. Shuttle buses run to six points within the expo, while free buses ply the outside gates.
The most important "local knowledge," however, is that the expo operates a reservation-ticket system, by which ordinary ticket holders must re-apply to visit the five most popular attractions. These secondary tickets are limited to a total of about 25,000 per day, meaning that at least half of all visitors will see none of the key pavilions. Early media reports focused on complaints by disgruntled ticket holders who were denied access to various pavilions. Ting dismissed these as a case of his fellow Taiwanese not grasping the workings of a world-class event of this sort.
It is essential, therefore, to read up on the expo and plan one's visit in advance, arrive before the gates open at 9 am, and get in line for the one or two top priority sights.
The five reservation-required pavilions are the Taipei Story House, a mock-Tudor building dating from Taiwan's trade with the West in the late 19th century; the Celebrity's House, dedicated to singer Teresa Teng; the Pavilion of Regimen, with its collection of bonsai; the Expo Theater, which shows a short 3D animated film about human impact on Taiwan's fragile natural environment; and the Pavilion of Dreams, with its display of the latest innovations loosely linked to botanical themes.
The expo has almost 7,000 artistic performances, ranging from community troupes to some of Taiwan's leading international-standard dance and musical ensembles. If seeing one or more of these is on one's list, then finding their times and locations and getting a seat in advance will also be necessary.
Many of the pavilions have been designed using cutting-edge technology in keeping with the expo's commitment to "3G" (green buildings, green transportation and green technology) and "3R" (reduce, recycle and re-use).
The highpoint of this is perhaps the FE EcoARK, appearing at the expo as the Pavilion of Fashion, constructed largely of bamboo and recycled PET bottles, which its creator claims set seven world records, including as the first wide-span exhibition hall with a zero-carbon footprint.
It is the only pavilion that will not remain on site after the expo. The other 13 will all remain - though their future uses are yet undecided - in what Ting refers to as "the expo's legacy for the city of Taipei".
As for the reason for holding the event at all, Ting, an academic with a 25-year passion for expos, said it was designed to showcase four of Taiwan's strengths: "Our technological power, agricultural power - including horticultural - cultural power and environmental protection power."
Friday, 17 December 2010
change in the weather
When the seasons change, and I put on trousers and jackets I haven't worn since last year...
I keep finding old keys
and out-of-date coins
and banknotes for places I'll again never visit
and train and plane tickets for places I've seen
and write-ups for restaurants I'm sure I've not been to
and tissues for colds I thought I'd caught
and ointments and pills for aches I have suffered
and photos of women I once thought I loved
and unfinished novels I couldn't get into
and unstarted poems I can't understand
and bits of string and rubber bands
and rings for parts of my body once pierced
and scarves and hats for fashions once followed
and badges and buttons for isms once hallowed
and ball after ball of odd-smelling fluff
and oh, how heavy my pockets with all this stuff
I keep finding old keys
and out-of-date coins
and banknotes for places I'll again never visit
and train and plane tickets for places I've seen
and write-ups for restaurants I'm sure I've not been to
and tissues for colds I thought I'd caught
and ointments and pills for aches I have suffered
and photos of women I once thought I loved
and unfinished novels I couldn't get into
and unstarted poems I can't understand
and bits of string and rubber bands
and rings for parts of my body once pierced
and scarves and hats for fashions once followed
and badges and buttons for isms once hallowed
and ball after ball of odd-smelling fluff
and oh, how heavy my pockets with all this stuff
Monday, 1 November 2010
new verse
and here's the second poem this week [first here]
the Muse(s) provided the last line;
the title derives from the passage in the Confucian “Analects”: 三人行必有我師 (“[when] three men are walking, there is sure to be my teacher”);
the optimist/pessimist bit came from a BBC report last week;
and the rest I got from the “heavenly” and “earthly” behaviour of my dog, Hutian/Hudi(胡天/胡地)
[title] When walking with my dogs,
There is always something new to learn:
From Hutian’s naïve gregariousness,
I’ve learnt to meet strangers with an open heart;
from Hudi’s incessant sniffing,
I’ve learnt not to stick my nose into strangers’ groins.
From Hutian’s adventurous spirit,
I’ve gained my own wanderlust;
from Hudi’s defense of the realm,
I’ve learnt that after a while away, it is always good to return home.
From Hutian,
I’ve learnt that every tree can be my toilet;
from Hudi,
I’ve learnt not to roll in other people’s shit,
and NEVER to eat it.
From Hutian the optimist,
I’ve learnt that my lover going out of the door
does not mean she is leaving me for ever;
from Hudi the pessimist,
I’ve learnt that it probably means she is.
From Hutian’s passion for the simple things in life,
I’ve learnt to enjoy driving a car with my head out the window
or running through knee-deep water after a storm;
from Hudi,
I now know I must not lick my balls when I meet a nice girl.
From Hutian,
I’ve learnt never to bite the hand that feeds me;
from Hudi,
I’ve realised there is a little Oedipus in all of us.
From Hutian,
I’ve learnt to be satisfied with what God puts on the table in front of me;
from Hudi,
I’ve learnt THIS IS NOT ENOUGH.
from both Hutian and Hudi,
I’ve learnt that, within our hectic lives,
we should still take time to stop and smell the piss on the flowers.
the Muse(s) provided the last line;
the title derives from the passage in the Confucian “Analects”: 三人行必有我師 (“[when] three men are walking, there is sure to be my teacher”);
the optimist/pessimist bit came from a BBC report last week;
and the rest I got from the “heavenly” and “earthly” behaviour of my dog, Hutian/Hudi(胡天/胡地)
[title] When walking with my dogs,
There is always something new to learn:
From Hutian’s naïve gregariousness,
I’ve learnt to meet strangers with an open heart;
from Hudi’s incessant sniffing,
I’ve learnt not to stick my nose into strangers’ groins.
From Hutian’s adventurous spirit,
I’ve gained my own wanderlust;
from Hudi’s defense of the realm,
I’ve learnt that after a while away, it is always good to return home.
From Hutian,
I’ve learnt that every tree can be my toilet;
from Hudi,
I’ve learnt not to roll in other people’s shit,
and NEVER to eat it.
From Hutian the optimist,
I’ve learnt that my lover going out of the door
does not mean she is leaving me for ever;
from Hudi the pessimist,
I’ve learnt that it probably means she is.
From Hutian’s passion for the simple things in life,
I’ve learnt to enjoy driving a car with my head out the window
or running through knee-deep water after a storm;
from Hudi,
I now know I must not lick my balls when I meet a nice girl.
From Hutian,
I’ve learnt never to bite the hand that feeds me;
from Hudi,
I’ve realised there is a little Oedipus in all of us.
From Hutian,
I’ve learnt to be satisfied with what God puts on the table in front of me;
from Hudi,
I’ve learnt THIS IS NOT ENOUGH.
from both Hutian and Hudi,
I’ve learnt that, within our hectic lives,
we should still take time to stop and smell the piss on the flowers.
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