Proof of Living Moments: Kindness

by Shenzhan / 申展

A summary of fragmented thoughts during the week, Proof of Living Moments (PLM) intends to have an account of what comes to my mind when I am reading on the subway, walking in the street or listening to a podcast, or like many people nowadays, just sitting around in my apartment. Thoughts often appear, then disappear into the ocean of unconsciousness, as if they have never existed.

As if that living moment has never existed.

I hope these notes are at least a proof of those living moments.

How to let go what you expect to get, and still be kind? 

I first start thinking of this question when I was reading a book in graduate school, 《上海的金枝玉叶》 (“ Precious Delicate Flowers in Shanghai”) , a biography of a woman from a wealthy family in early 20th Century Shanghai, going through the wars in the 30s and 40s, beginning of the Communist China, social and class movements peaked during the Cultural Revolution from 1966 - 1976, etc. By the time she was 80 years old and living quietly in a small ally in Shanghai, her family wealth was long gone, her husband died in a labor camp, and she herself had the memories of doing all kinds of laborious work unimaginable for a beautiful, delicate, high-class lady in Shanghai in the 30s. With all she went through, amazingly, she was still a kind person.

Impressed in an abstract way, I carry the memory of this book and her story effortlessly for all these years. It came up immediately when I came across Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem on the morning of July 1, 2020. 

In New York City, we are now entering the fourth month of working from home due to COVID-19 and I start to feel a bit frustrated about things between J and me. After a couple of months of close text messages and weekly 3-hour-long zoom calls, it seems we are hitting a wall. I suddenly don’t feel he has the kind of eagerness to talk anymore. I tried to initiate messages, but the response did not feel too encouraging. Did I say anything off putting (like when I mentioned I didn’t have a “real relationship” for 18 years, just dates and short terms)? Or we both increasingly feel hopeless as COVID-19 drags? Or he is just too busy with the school reopening, board meetings, zoom meetings with colleagues and parents, spending time with his families? In the end, it’s hard to keep up with the intensity of expectations for too long. At some point sparkles will start to fade, which is an unfortunate human nature. Also it’s hard to argue there is anything yet between us: we just met in person in February, and were immediately separated due to the pandemic. We haven’t FELT each other physically at all: forget about holding hands or anything beyond that, we haven’t even sitting next to each other in person, testing occasionally brushing against the other person’s finger, or shoulder. What’s worse, we don’t even know how and when THAT would happen!

Usually a frustration will lead to impatience and bitterness, and I will explode at some point and blow everything off. 

And I read Naomi’s poem, “Kindness”.

KINDNESS 善

Before you know what kindness really is 在你明白善的真谛以前

you must lose things, 你必须有所遗失，

feel the future dissolve in a moment 感受未来在瞬间消逝

like salt in a weakened broth. 就像稀薄的汤里的盐。

What you held in your hand, 你手中所握的，

what you counted and carefully saved, 你所依靠和谨慎保存的，

all this must go so you know 都必须放弃这样你才知道

how desolate the landscape can be 善与善的中间地带

between the regions of kindness. 风景可以多么荒凉。

How you ride and ride 好像你不停地不停地乘车

thinking the bus will never stop, 觉得公车永不停止，

the passengers eating maize and chicken 乘客们啃着玉米和鸡肉

will stare out the window forever. 会永远看着窗外。 

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, 在你了解善沉甸甸的柔软以前，

you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho

你必须旅行，碰到穿着白色斗篷的印第安人

lies dead by the side of the road. 毫无生气地陈尸路旁。

You must see how this could be you, 你得明白这可能是你，

how he too was someone 明白他也曾在夜里穿行

who journeyed through the night with plans 有想法

and the simple breath that kept him alive. 还有让他活着的一口气

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, 你懂得善在内心最深处以前

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. 也必须明白悲伤深藏在那里。

You must wake up with sorrow. 你得带着悲伤醒来。

You must speak to it till your voice 与之交谈直到你的声音

catches the thread of all sorrows 托起每一根悲伤的线条

and you see the size of the cloth. 然后才明白整张布匹的大小。

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, 这时只有善才有意义，

only kindness that ties your shoes 只有善能让你系上鞋带，

and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread, 每天出去寄信、买面包，

only kindness that raises its head 只有善抬起头来

from the crowd of the world to say 从芸芸世间说

It is I you have been looking for, 你一直找的是我，

and then goes with you everywhere 然后跟随你到每一个地方

like a shadow or a friend. 就像影子或朋友。
(translation by Shenzhan/申展）

I remember the night J and I were talking about past relationships. J told me about his recent divorce; I shared my first relationship story in graduate school -- and that was when I texted J that I didn’t have any serious relationship afterwards in the past 18 years, which shocked him. As we chatted over text messages, I couldn’t help to be in a deep sorrow: perhaps what surprised him made me feel sorry for myself. Maybe I have been feeling sorry for myself ever since that first relationship ended. I was weeping and texting, for reasons I couldn’t, and still can’t, explain. It’s just painful, and I knew it had nothing to do with J.

But it was not true. There were other relationships, long or short, and I was serious. Or at least I intended to be serious at the beginning. But they all didn’t work out, hence are not counted as “relationships” in my mind. Is it possible that I have never allowed myself pass the very first “real” relationship? I can’t explain why I said what I said to J. I wasn’t trying to lie, but I wasn’t telling the truth either.

Can I still be kind to myself and others if I am not feeling particularly loving or being loved?

As I read the poem, it starts to feel it no longer matters whatever between J and me.

Kindness, "It is I you have been looking for." 

Perhaps the silver lining is, even when one is not capable of loving, one can still be capable of kindness.

Astoria, New York

Revised July 25, 2020

Hear Naomi reading “Kindness” : https://soundcloud.com/onbeing/kindness-by-naomi-shihab-nye

Hear Shenzhan/申展 reading “善“：

LIFE, COVID-19 STYLE: did I just have it?

by Shenzhan/申展

Xiao Mi, April, 2020

One night in early April, 2020, I was having a really bad headache, with a stronger-than-usual sense of loneliness after being in bed the entire day, and the day before. Around mid-night I was panicking for a moment that I might have contracted IT. 

IT being COVID-19. 

I am in New York City so contracting the corona virus would hardly be a surprise, especially in the peak weeks. By the time I was having headaches, the entire state had  been on emergency lock-down for over two weeks. I had been working from home for 15 days, living with my cat Xiao Mi within the four walls of an apartment in Queens. With the highest number of patients and death tolls among the five boroughs of New York City, Queens was NOT the kind of place you would want to be at this point if you had a choice. The city was in the thickness of the pandemic. I could hear sirens all day long from my balcony.

Earlier that day, my friend M, who lives in Manhattan and is very kind to check in on me every now and then, sent me a photo of dead bodies piled up and stored in trucks of a hospital as death just overflowed the city capacity. Of course, she could not possibly know my state of health. Only a couple of my colleagues knew since I had to call in for a sick day and everyone was nervous. My boss called me to check if I was ok. I was ok -- just body aches, chill, fatigue, maybe a little fever, “but no coughing, no difficulty breathing. I’m sure it’s just a typical cold, very bad timing.” I added after describing my symptoms and went back to sleep.

When you are living alone, sick with fatigue, and the creature you live with is not the kind to cook or bring you food, feeding yourself happily becomes more or less an issue. While loss of appetite helped the situation, I was soon reminded by my friend H in Beijing, which is a few months ahead of NYC in dealing with the virus, that sufficient protein intake is important to fight against the virus. My intelligence had diminished at the time, so I forgot that protein ALSO, obviously, as one article I read argues, feeds the virus so it’s quite debatable the role protein plays if you are sick with the corona virus. 

Anyway, I was having body aches, chill, headaches, fatigue, and loss of appetite, so was not in a good shape for any kind of debate. Nevertheless, I kept debating in my own head what went wrong. I had worked from home fine for two weeks before I got sick. So logically, nothing, not even the MTA, between my apartment and the workplace would have got me sick. I carefully followed all the right precautions, maybe even more so than the heroic New York State governor Cuomo recommended: I wore an N95 mask whenever I went out for grocery shopping once a week; I used alcohol-based napkins to wipe anything I brought back home, from milk boxes to oranges (leafy vegetables were problematic!); I jumped into a shower after I wiped down, sorted out, and stocked away everything from my weekly shopping. Social distancing while shopping proved to be impractical. Some stores were just too small for a surprisingly high volume of shoppers. But I was wearing a mask, which theoretically should have prevented most contracts even if the distance was not six feet. Right? So, what went wrong to get me sick? If it’s not COVID-19 (thankfully I was still breathing with ease, maybe a touch of tightness in my chest, but a bad cold makes you feel that way too, right?), how the hell could I have caught something that was probably with fewer chances than the corona virus to catch out there now? 

I was in bed puzzled by these questions, and felt my intelligence was slightly insulted by not being able to adequately protect myself against whatever out there. Then the idea that I might die from COVID-19 got me. Damn! WHAT IF I die from it, joining the other thousands in NYC? Since I wouldn’t get a test, and probably wasn’t able to get a bed in the hospital, I might just die at home, with Xiao Mi watching me and begging for food as usual while I wouldn’t be able to respond. And my death probably wouldn’t be counted towards the death toll since the city wouldn’t magically know about it. 

AND how can I tell my mother in China about this? Obviously, I have to save my last breath to deliver her the horrible news myself. Imagine that! It would be the worst moment of my life, and her life too! I can’t bear to think that a mother has to take the news that her only daughter is dying, away from home and out of her reach. Plus, my mother had been fighting with cancer since her diagnosis last August. She had gone through bone fractures, a surgery, chemotherapy, acute kidney impairment, and loss of mobility... It would be too cruel to just add this on top of the suffering she endures already. Of course, there is no way to do the math. I mean, having cancer and losing a daughter don’t necessarily add up to more suffering than just losing a daughter or having cancer. (Well, it sounds horrible however I phrase it.) Understandably, at the moment when the realization that I might die from COVID-19 struck me, I wasn’t doing any math. Instead, I started crying. 

It was a lonely cry. I cried over a betrayal boyfriend, frustrating relationships, half-cooked doctoral dissertation, general depression, work, child never to be born, and the passing of my first cat Chino (that was a bad one), etc. Each time I cried for how I felt for myself. This time I cried over the possibility of how I might have made my mother feel. Somehow it made me feel lonelier given the circumstance: she is only a phone call away, but I can’t tell her, nor anyone. Not now, not until I got tested. And there was no way to get tested. Still, even if I were tested positive, would I tell her? Only 20% of the positive cases get into the critical situation. 

The moment of panicking and crying was nevertheless very brief. Crying literally made breathing hard when lying in bed. So, I had to get myself sitting up and Xiao Mi jumped in bed and demanded to sit on my chest (as if she knew I was NOT having a breathing problem!) for two minutes, like she often does. After she went off, I had made the decision that the best way to avoid delivering the terrible news to my mother was NOT dying. If I am not going to die, I would have never needed to tell her anything about her daughter's death.

I took a Tylenol my neighbor brought me to subdue the headache and went on sleeping that night. 

Weeks later, after I fully recovered from the sickness, cause still unknown, and resumed with zoom happy hours, yoga, biking, and packed work meetings, I came across an article on New York Times, “C.D.C. Adds New Symptoms to Its List of Possible Covid-19 Signs”. It says:

 “Chills, muscle pain, sore throat and headache are among the ailments now considered potential indicators of the disease”.

Still, with all the symptoms now included, it is a mere “potential”. How helpful is that supposed to be without a test? 

And where is the antibody test? 

April 30, 2020

Astoria, New York

Proof of Living Moments: Tough Love and Kahlil Gibran/艰难的爱与纪伯伦

by Shenzhan/申展

Reaching, Astoria, New York, May 2020

by Shenzhan/申展

今天读到纪伯伦（1883-1931）的《先知》，有些奇怪的感觉：阳光似乎特别明亮，天空特别蓝，鸟儿的啼叫显得既特别嘈杂，又特别空寥。

意大利紧缺病床收治COVID-19的感染者，美国宣布全国进入紧急状态，纽约州长Andrew Cruomo 给总统Trump写了封公开信，要求军队增援以备应对患病和死亡人数不可避免地激增的状况。

2020年3月16日，我也要开始在家工作了。

坐在纽约Astoria公寓的书桌前，面对几近荒芜的后院——一个孩子的笑声不断传来——我读到《先知》的第二章，“关于爱”：

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

黎明醒来，带着一颗轻快的心，感谢又一天，充满爱；

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;

午间休憩，静思爱的激情；

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

黄昏归家，心怀感恩；

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

然后入睡，祈祷心中所爱，唇边颂唱。

(翻译：申展；Translation by Shenzhan Liao)

我想这当是每日在家的作息。

一息尚存，就爱这世界吧。

***

It feels strange to come across “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran (1883 - 1931) on this day, when the sun seems to be extra bright, the sky extra blue and the birds chirping extra loud and quiet at the same time. 

Italy is running out of beds to treat patients with COVID-19; U.S. has declared national emergency; and New York governor Andrew Cuomo wrote an open letter to President Trump asking for military aid to build more medical facility quickly in order to prepare for the inevitable wave of the sick and the dead as the virus spreads exponentially. 

Starting Monday, March 16, 2020, I am going to work from home. 

Sitting at my desk facing a mostly deserted backyard in Astoria, New York, a child’s laughter piercing the air, I came across these words from “Love”, chapter 2 in “The Prophet”:

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

黎明醒来，带着一颗轻快的心，感谢又一天，充满爱；

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;

午间休憩，静思爱的激情；

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

黄昏归家，心怀感恩；

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

然后入睡，祈祷心中所爱，唇边颂唱。

(翻译：申展；Translation by Shenzhan Liao)

I think it immediately gives a good structure of a day working from home. 

Still in love with this world, at every breathing moment of my life. 

Astoria, New York

March 15, 2020

Proof of Living Moments: Wendell Berry and Blue Jays

by Shenzhan/申展

A blue jay

Photo credit: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Blue_Jay/media-browser/59859171

A summary of fragmented thoughts, Proof of Living Moments (PLM) intends to have an account of what comes to my mind when I am reading on the subway, walking in the street or listening to a podcast. Thoughts often appear, then disappear into the ocean of unconsciousness, as if they have never existed.

As if that living moment has never existed.

I hope these notes are at least a proof of those living moments.

I found myself having the first moment of settling down in the year of 2020 while I was reading a poem by Wendell Berry (1934 — ) . I can’t help but copy it down and translate it into Chinese here:

***

How to be a poet 怎么做一个诗人

(to remind myself) （提醒自己）

By Wendell Berry 作者：Wendell Berry

Make a place to sit down. 创造一个地方坐下。

Sit down. Be quiet. 坐下。安静。

You must depend upon 你得依靠

affection, reading, knowledge, 情感，阅读，知识

skill -- more of each 技巧——每样都得

than you have--inspiration, 比你有的更多——启发，

work, growing older, patience, 工作，慢慢变老，耐心，

for patience joins time 耐心融入时光

to eternity. Any readers 与永恒。所有读者

who like your poems, 喜爱你的诗，

doubt their judgement. 怀疑自己的判断。

Breathe with unconditional breath 无条件的呼吸，呼吸

the unconditioned air. 没有被调节的空气。

Shun electric wire. 躲避电缆。

Communicate slowly. Live 慢慢交流。过

a three-dimensioned life; 一种三维的生活；

stay away from screens. 远离屏幕。

Stay away from anything 远离任何东西

that obscures the place it is in. 如果它打搅了自己所在。

There are no unsacred places; 没有不神圣的地方；

there are only scared places 只有神圣的地方

and desecrated places. 和被亵渎的地方。

Accept what comes from silence. 接受来自沉默的一切。

Make the best you can of it. 尽你所能运用沉默。

Of the little words that come 那些微不足道的字眼

out of the silence, like prayers 出自沉默，就像祈祷

prayed back to the one who prays, 返回给祈祷者，

make a poem that does not disturb 做成一首诗，不打搅

the silence from which it came. 那与之俱来的沉默。

***

Then I heard birds chirping outside of my window at the very moment when I was so moved by Berry’s poem. Naturally, I wrote the following:

Blue jays,  冠蓝鸦，

beautiful birds, 美丽的鸟儿，

came to my balcony, 来到我的阳台，

for water 从一个很早以前被遗忘在此的篮子，

in a basket forgotten there 喝水。

long time ago.

(by Shenzhan Liao)

It truly feels like a best living moment. like I am riding a wave, at its peak. Now I have a proof.

January 5, 2020

Astoria, New York