Category Archives: Interactions Shared with the World

The Succulents

Lessons of life, these small plants have to, offer to us, and, it’s, an important one too!  Translated…

Don’t know when, raising the succulent plants became, a trend.

One afternoon, I was strolling down the underground shopping strip, and, stopped in front of a small plant, and, I’d, suddenly understood, where that sense of healing that people talked about came from.  Those chubby leaves, resembled the paws of the bear, with the lighting, the soft and thin fuzz, made me feel, extremely, calm and collected.

On the succulent plants, as I thought, the images of those potted cute things came.  The healing sensation culture, made the succulent potted plants became a total trend, turning it, into a brand new sort of merchandise, they’d gotten, posted on the websites.  These plants are regulars at the cafés all around, an assortments of handicraft designs of them too, the potteries.  Real and fake, the fake looked, so very, real, and, how easily, human were, saved, in this mixture of what’s real and what’s fake, and, doesn’t this symbolize how we’re, squeezed too hard daily, that we needed to, look toward this small plant, to find our renewed energies?

At this moment, I stood, before the glass window, looking at the bear paw, in the temperature and humidity controlled room, hearing the salesperson tell of how to care for the succulent plants.  Thinking, that, they’re, both succulent plants, and, could it be, that the ghost plant?

wonders of nature here…photo from online…succulent plants 的圖片結果

In my childhood memories, the succulent plants weren’t as precious as these.  It’s a sort of a food, instead of a decorating plant.  This began, with my eldest uncle who’d loved his plants as if, they were, his own children.  Way before the trendy gardening came, my eldest uncle and aunt already, decorated their yard and rooftop, into small gardens.  In my impressions, he was always, living in dirt.  From when I was younger, I’d, watched him digging into the dirt, in the front yard, he’d told me that he was, loosening the soil by the seasons, so the flowers and trees can, grow better.  He’s the kind of man that would, pluck a flower as he trekked up the mountains for you, to taste the nectars.  Once, he’d had me select my favorite flower by his racks of plants, that I can take one with me.  I’d only recalled that I got very excited, and ran toward that patch of flowers, but felt panic all of a sudden.  Having the conditions of selective difficulty, I’d felt, anxious, of the sudden influx of the choices presented to me.  In this heat, I’d, pointed toward that patch of gray off to the corners.  As I walked near, the greenish purple color of the plant, made it look mysterious, the leaves were criss-crossed, like a dream catcher.

My eldest uncle laughed, “You sure do know how to pick them, this is for eating!”, he’d quickly plucked a few leaves off, ran into the house to wash them up, not long thereafter, I’d, stared at the fatty leaf, hesitant, as I, took a bite, that crisp sound, with the sour and stale juice that came onto my tongue, and, as I chewed it more, the taste turned, sweeter, perhaps, it’d, tasted like the unsweetened bell fruit, with that taste of herb to it.  This discord of the appearance and taste, was impacting to me, “It’d, tasted like the bell fruit!”, my uncle’s smile became a squint in his eyes, nodded toward me satisfactorily, “This small leaf, will grow into many flowers, you got the pick!”  He’d placed the leaf into the palm of my hand.  Looking at the fatty leaf, I’d thought, “nice to meet your acquaintance!”, and that was when I recalled, that my very first cultivated plant, was also a succulent.

It’s, quite amazing, the parent plant stayed in a huge garden with the enriched soil, and the high humidity, did it ever imagine, that its leaves were going to, move into the lanai of a building in the city?  But, it’d, lived up to the expectations, the leaves multiplied.  In a couple of years, the small finger-sized leaves, became this, bush of leaves, a small garden.

Weird, how as we aged, we’d gone from a leaf from the ghost flower, into a bear claw crassula?  From when I was younger, I’d believed, that life will be like a ghost plant, with the goal, worked hard, under the sun, and, get enough water, I will be able to, bloom, grow, leaf after leaf, after leaf, and successfully, bloom.  But, the reality was like the wind, slapping you across the face.  And after awhile, we’d, slowly, grown, into a viewing plant that’s, fearful, of getting hurt, used to, hiding ourselves, inside that transparent glass container, trading in our protective colorations, for cuteness, sitting in our, isolated, universes, preserved ourselves.

very different in appearances, but, same in “nature”, with the strong will to survive, in the harshest of all conditions!  Photo found online…

Sometimes, life is like a cruel desert, turning us, into, a cactus.

I’d often forgotten, that beneath that healing image, the cacti, with the needles, are a member of the succulent plants.  From succulent, into prickly, that soft fuzz no longer in existence, replacing them, the prickly needles.  The flesh, through the grinds of the days, became calluses, but, the calluses, the thorns, used their stubbornness, wrapped up your heart that’s, softest and most fragile, most, easily hurt.

Hey, did you ever see a flower of a cactus?  Oh yeah, it blooms too.

I’d once, owned a round and stout, cactus with the shorter thorns.  Days into years, its plain looks made people think it’s, nothing more than a décor. Yet, one spring, it’d, started, budding around, with a small light hidden within.  I will, never forget that morn, as the sunlight shone slanted onto the lanai, and, there appeared, a palm-sized flower out of the cactus.  Bright yellow like a fire burning, but, thin as the wings of a butterfly.  The petals soaked up the sun, golden, in full bloom, shown its deepest, gentleness.

At that very moment, all the memories of pain, walking through all those summers, became, light as a grain of sand.

And so, this, is the lesson that people can learn, from these plants, surely, they’re, not easy to care for, but, if you look after them well, they will, show you a side of life that’s, quite inspiring, and teach you, that weathering through the seasons of life, is something as plain as living from day to day.

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Filed under Connections, Expectations, Interactions Shared with the World, Lessons, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Values

The Air, My Friend

The column by Jimi Liao, translated by me…

The child to the sloth, or, the sloth, to the child…

Let’s take it slow now…………

No matter how quickly the world changes………

Let’s just, take it slow……………

No matter, how worked up others are around us………

We will, continue to, take it slow together………

One day…

Someone will, finally, get us………

Understanding, that slower is faster……

We’re in no rush……………

Slowly, slowly, slower, slower………………

And this, would be how hard you’re all, PUSHING your children, to catch up to your tempos or paces, and by doing that, you’d, deprived your young, of taking their times, to grow UP slow, at their own paces, and, at the same time, you’d, SLAUGHTERED your young children like P-I-G-S, depriving them, of a happy, AND carefree childhood!

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Filed under Awareness, Bad Behaviors, Bad Parenting Behaviors, Being Exposed, Child Development/Education of Children, Childhood, Growing Up Too Fast, Interactions Shared with the World, Kids Raising Kids, Lessons, Losing Sight of What's Important, Messed Up Values, My Thoughts on Various Issues, Parent-Child Interactions, Parenting/Parenthood, Perspectives, Problems with Grown-Ups, Properties of Life, Story-Telling, Things Left Behind, Translated Work, Wake Up Calls

Sisyphus in the Subways of Paris

The help from unknown strangers, that’s, made this woman and her daughter felt warmed in the hearts, translated…

I’d come to understand how Sisyphus was feeling. As I took two suitcases with the illustrated books, standing by the subways of Paris, faced with the dozens of steps heading upward.

Going against gravity, is already, a challenge in itself, let alone, when I’d needed to, push a huge rock that’s, way oversized, way heavier than my own body weight. And so, Sisyphus kept, pushing uphill continually.

Ahhh! I’m, after all, luckier, than Sisyphus, someone offered to help me out.

A graceful woman with silvery hair, used her wrinkled hands, stated in English, that she wanted to, help me out, and, grabbed my small suitcase to carry. I’d understood, that the moment she’d, lifted it up, she’d, be regretting it, because, it was, filled with books, weighed, just like the rocks.

But, why had, this kind hearted elderly woman offered me the helping hand? Because there was a middle aged man who saw her hauling a suitcase as she’d, stumbled up a staircase, and gave her a helping hand. And, she’d, gone down the steps, emptyhanded, and turned around and saw me with great difficulties, climbing up the steps, she’d, immediately, “paid it forward”, and, lifted up the suitcase, that was, apparently, heavier than she was.

I’d naturally, used my English and French, to tell her thanks, but it wasn’t, necessary, but I still had a bigger suitcase in my arms, and, this “evergreen marathoner” had, surpassed me already.

And yet, this pushing the rocks upward, with me, as the last leg. Or maybe, I hadn’t, found where to put my strength to best use yet, I appeared to be too foolish, and, an onlooker can no longer, take it, another younger, more fashionable woman, entered, into this race of mine, and, took the large suitcase I was handling, away from me.

Ah! What, is in this thing? All her friends, started, dissecting my case with their eyes from the various angles, and finally, they were, able to, lift up, that huge rock, then, lift up the legs, push up the steps; lift up the legs, push up the steps………as for me? With nothing in my hand, I’d, used both English AND French, to cheer my helpers on.

I’m, way luckier, than Sisyphus, the rock didn’t roll back down, as it was about, to reach the heights, and, all of those “competitors” who were involved in this race of mine, stood on the top of the stairs, with tears in the eyes, waved goodbye to me. And, my youthful daughter stood, panting, by her large suitcase, with great confusion, watched, this skit that had, happened in the subways.

The two of us, kept sliding the three large suitcases along in the subway of Paris, and, discussed how incredible our adventures were. As we just turned the corners, holy! Stairs! Stairs! Stairs! It seems, we’d, added, a second show, of the “Trials of Sisyphus”!

And so, from this you can see, how helpful, these strangers were, to this mother-daughter pair, and, without the strangers’ kindness, this mother-daughter pair, would’ve, NEVER been able to, carry their two large suitcases up that first flight of stairs, and yet, after they’d passed this first hurdle, there comes, the next one…but, the kindness of the strangers who’d, offered them a helping hand, can’t ever be forgotten that’s for sure!!!

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Awareness, Connections, Cost of Living, Interactions Shared with the World, Lending a Helping Hand, Life, Modeling Behaviors, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Story-Telling

Name Wee’s New Song Was Controversial, He Was Held by the Malaysian Government for Four Days, Then Bailed Out

Talking ‘bout a TOTAL LACK of freedom of expression, and speech here! From the Entertainment Sections, translated…

The Malaysian singer, Name Wee set up a New Year’s greeting song, “Like a Dog”, and, it’d caused fury in the religious sect of Malaysia, he was taken in to the local police station on the 22nd to explain himself; four days later, he’d made bail, he’d posted that he was okay on FB, “I’m out now, thank you all for your shows of care and concern toward me. I just want to take a long shower, have some food, then, go to bed. Chat later. Love you guys, goodnight.”

黃明志新歌惹議 馬來西亞警方調查the artist showing off his albums…photo from MSN.com

On the afternoon of the 26th, Namewee, in the company of his friends and attorney, finished setting up the bail for his release, he’d dressed casually, with a mask, and a knitted hat, quickly, made his way out of the police station, and run into the car that came to pick him up. Based off of understanding, these past few days of being in jail, he’d felt, pained. Based off of the local press, Namewee’s father felt relieved, after learning that he’d made bail, and mentioned, that his son believed, that Malaysia is just, he also believed, that the police finished up with the investigations of his son’s case, and now, they’re waiting for the ruling from the assistant district attorney.

And, Namewee has a huge fan base back home, and, toward this New Year’s greeting song that’s caused such controversy, the official, Kary said from an interview a couple of days ago, “For me, we know this sort of man, he’s an idiot”, he’d even, asked the public, to ignore his existence. And, as Namewee starts work on the 28th in Kuala Lumpur on a commercial, all the way to March 25, when he’s due in Taiwan for a concert, there are a ton of work for him to do in Malaysia, to prepare for his concert, and the four days he was in police custody didn’t affect his schedules.

Wow, so, there are, those places in this god DAMN world, where if you say something that’s offended someone, you get hauled off to prison, and this makes me wonder, is this, a free world, or, are we all, just living in the mirage of ourselves, living IN a free world, it is, the TWENTY-FIRST century, so, why are some countries in this world so, medieval still, huh???

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Basic Human Rights, Cause & Effect, Choices, Government, Policies, & Politics, Interactions Shared with the World, Issues of the Society, Legislature, News Stories, Observations, Perspectives, Properties of Life, Social Issues, The Constitution, Values, Wake Up Calls, White Picket Fence

In Love with Batik

Made a fool of himself, because he’d not gotten to know what sort of an attire the batik was! Translated…

On the weekends, the Taipei Main Station became a gathering place for the migrant workers. Seeing those Indonesian migrant workers put on their Batik (printed cloth, dyed with wax), I was reminded of thirty years ago, as I was, sent to Jakarta to work, I’d bought two suits, to be like the locals!

batik 的圖片結果a sample of the cloth…found online…

I’d found the prints that were, plainer, the colors, not so bright, and I’d felt very crisp, wearing the Batik. The only regret I have, was that I’d not, have the opportunities, to wear it out to show it off.

Back then, there were, more and more Indonesian trading companies set up in Taiwan. We are, a shipbuilding company, with a lot of clients, and, we’d gone to the airports, twice, or thrice per week to pick up our clients. And, shortly after, in order to fulfill the needs, China Airlines started having the no-transfer flights from Taipei, but, the flights arrive at eight at night. Here comes my chance, I can get off work, go home, take a shower, change into my Batik, and go pick up the clients.

And maybe, our skin color was lighter than the locals, that, it’d made us, stand out, that some of the locals would see us, and look back, and smile at us. Then, I’d, noticed, that there was, a female police officer by the gates, who’d looked at me, and smiled lightly. I can’t be uncourteous, I’d, nodded in acknowledgement toward her too, and smiled my gentleman’s smile. Then, after awhile, every time I arrived, she’d always, flashed that smile toward me, and sometimes, she would really be, grinning, ear to ear towards me. And, the female coworker close by would give her a nudge, encourage her to come and talk to me.

here’s a person, wearing batik, from online still…person wearing batik 的圖片結果

Then one day, as I’d, entered into the corridors, before I could stand up straight, I saw her, walking straight toward me, and I can tell, she was, blushed. My heart rac’ed a bit, but, I’d, warned myself, getting sent to Indonesia is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for work, NOT for romance. I have a beautiful wife, a cute son at home, this, is unacceptable.

That female officer walked toward me, said lightly, “Sir”.

Wow, she spoke Chinese.

She’d gotten closer to me, and said, very lightly to me, “Can you, not wear the pajamas, to the airports?”

So, this, is something that’s, interesting about culture, because you’re, in a different culture, and, the way they dress, is different than what you’re used to, and like this man had, bought the batik, which was originally supposed to be used a pajamas, and he’d, worn it out…cultural differences, is what we all need to, watch out for when we enter a different country from our own!

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Filed under Awareness, Cause & Effect, Choices, Connections, Expectations, Interactions Shared with the World, Lessons, Life, Observations, Properties of Life, Social Awareness, Socialization, The Observer Effect, Values, Wake Up Calls

Keep the Love Flowing

The cycle of kindness, also rolls down continually, from one person, to the next, we need more stories like these, especially at this day and age! Translated…

The rain came pouring down on my exercise walk, I’d rushed into the breakfast shops to hide out, the shop owner’s mother in her seventies ushered me in, and she’d, taken out a yellow raincoat from the closets, for me to put on, her act of kindness had, warmed up my heart.

As the rain slowly dissipat4ed, as I was, about to, return the raincoat, she’d started telling me the funny things that happened to her while she was on a trip to the eastern side of the island. A couple of years ago, she’d gone to Hualien to travel during the New Year’s holidays with her family, and, the trip was a spur of the moment thing, and, she’d only worn the short sleeves and shorts, and, the cold fronts made everybody shiver, and so, they can only, run back into the cars to hide, they’d not gone anywhere.

And, a woman who was standing at the side of the road saw, she’d immediately gone home, brought a ton of clothes for them to choose from, waited until the seven, eight adults and children had, selected the thick coats and smiled and said their thank yous, they’d wanted to ask her address, so they can send the clothe back, but, the woman turned them down. She’d told them, that her kids are all grown and lived elsewhere, that the clothes were just, taking up space in her home. And, every time after that, as the family saw the clothes, they’d always, smiled on it, and, remembered the kindness from the woman, who’d given them the coats to wear.

In order to keep the love flowing, the breakfast shop also gathered some donated clothes for the comers to borrow, other than keeping the shop connected with the local communities, it’s, a way of repaying the woman for her kindness. As I’d heard, I thought, maybe I can write this tale down, or maybe, by chance, that kindhearted woman that the family met in Hualien will see, that her kindness had become, a cycle already.

And so, this, is how some random act of kindness had touched so many lives, and, by passing the kindness to the strangers that came to the breakfast shop, the owner is keeping the kindness that was shown to her and her family flowing, and we need more stories like this in the world we live in right now!

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Awareness, Because of Love, Cause & Effect, Connections, Friendships, Inspirational Tales, Interactions Shared with the World, Interpersonal Relations, Kindness Shown, Lending a Helping Hand, Memories Shared, Observations, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Stories of Hope, Story-Telling, Teaching by Example, The Education of Children, Translated Work, Trends

A Child without Christmas

A child without Christmas, because s/he is orphaned, without love of anybody, left abandoned, in those drop boxes outside of those age-old churches…

A child without Christmas grows up, experiencing nothing BUT the icy cold weather, the coldness of other people’s stares, because s/he is unloved and unwanted.

here’s someone who probably wouldn’t experience Christmas as something wonderful, photo from online…

A child without Christmas, becomes lost around the holidays, and, everywhere s/he looks, there’s, so much love flowing from others’ lives, and, s/he grew even more resentful of life and fate!  A child without Christmas, how, does a child grow up without Christmas?  How can a child, NOT know ANY love, and still live to grow up into adulthood?  Or, maybe, the child without Christmas, had died, a long, long, long time ago, and, s/he became, another Ghost of Christmases Past?

A child without Christmas, feels the pain, creeping up, as the Christmas season draws near, and, s/he stopped, heading outdoors by mid to late-November, because the “scent” of the season grows stronger, as the year nears end………

how can you possibly think about what you’re getting for X’mas IF you can’t even have your most basic needs filled from day to day?  Photo from online…

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