He Who Walked the Talk

The measures of this man, how he’d, given all he could in life, and left behind, a wonderful, legacy after his, death…translated…

Zhong-Ji is Very Passionate and Puts Everything He Has into Work, the Tiananmen Incident in Beijing, in the Rain of Bullets, He’d Interviewed the Witnesses, Victims, & Those Who Participated, Had it Not Been the Manager of the Station, Lee Ordering Everybody to Retreat, He’d Thought about, Staying…………

No Matter How Difficult the Check-Ups, He’d Agreed to Them, in an, Instant

It’d been said, that he’d, passed, so, abruptly.

The medical staff members kept trying to pinpoint the source of his infections, but, he was in a coma due to the medications they’d administered to him, he couldn’t say a word, but, the machines showed his vitals were dropping, the blood pressures dropped sharply, then, the heart slowed, slowed…………then, stopped.  He’d, used his behaviors, to prove his statements of death before he’d died: how I will go, is leaving NO regrets behind, free and, clear.

He was, the noted good friend in the news media industry, in the business realms, the not-for-profit organizations, everybody who knew him deemed him a good friend who’s, understanding, and kind.  He was, Zhong-Ji Liu.

In the ten months he’d battled it out with his illness, he was, the best, most compliant sort of wonderful patient that any doctor and nurse could, ever, ask for, no matter how awful the checks, how painful the treatment measures, he’d, agreed.  Like there wasn’t an inkling of emotional response; but he’d disclosed his fears, worries, and helplessness to us in private, it’s just, that he’d, made up his mind, to fight the cancer cells in his, blood.

April 22^nd, 2022, Zhong-Ji’s birthday party was held at a certain restaurant, the owner of the restaurant was an old acquaintance of his; Zhong-Ji told me quietly, that the foods were amazing, the prices, good, but, the owner was having a difficult time, keeping the restaurant going.  That evening, it was so rare, that his son, Jen-Ning was there too, and, in an instant, the wine glasses were emptied in both their, hands, Zhong-Ji talked on, still quite the, drinker.  A few days later came, the news of his blood producing cells stopped working, meaning, he was diagnosed with, leukemia.

He’d immediately gone with the treatment plans the Veteran’s Memorial oncologists had assigned him to, scheduled a bone marrow transplant.  Just got out of the hospital on May 14^th, by the 17^th, he’d gone with his wife, Hsu, became a Buddhist under the Fagu Mountain master.  Close to twenty years ago, his own father passed away, he witnessed how the master of Fagu Mountain and all the other Buddhist followers recited the passages of the dead for his own father, he was moved; after that, he’d gone to all the activities of the Buddhist Foundation, no questions asked.  It’s just, that under the affinities, he’d never, become, “baptized” as a Buddhist, I’d wondered about that a bit, but, it wasn’t my place to ask.  Until the cancer came at him, he’d, told me, that he worried he wasn’t, good enough, that he’d lacked the qualities to become, a Buddhist follower, that’s why he’d, put it off too long.  I’d laughed at him in the phone calls, that he’d, worried to much, that becoming a Buddhist was like registering for an account online, to prove oneself as a Buddhist, with only the desires of finding a place to belong, along with seeking out the wisdoms of mercy, and kindness, the path to learning these values, nothing more.  So, Zhong-Ji stopped hesitating, told me, that he would, become a follower of, Buddhism!

Zhong-Ji is my younger school mate at World Journalism University, we’d gotten involved in the choir, but not together, I was the leader of the tenth annual choir group, and he, the leader of the, fourteenth, and because we became schoolmates, we’d become, connected, and even if we are separated by the years, we naturally, couldn’t, break the bond, for decades, we’d sung, gathered for meals, and it’d, never stopped.

He’d once helped me a great deal at work, in the T.V. programming, he’d only worked for a short six months, and it was the most leisure of time that’d been, offered to me, working with him, all the nitty gritty of the settings of the shows, the shows themselves, he’d, taken it all on his, shoulders.  At the moment that he’d died, he was still, a member of the chairs of the foundation.

Witnessed Everything that’s Bad in the World, the Trials of the People, Had Been Hit by a Serious Illness

Zhong-Ji was more than devoted to his work, passionate too, the interview he’d done of the Tienanmen Incident in Beijing, he’d interviewed the people under the fires, had it not been the station manager Lee, who’d, ordered the crew to immediately return, he would’ve, stayed there.  On his way back from Beijing, to Narita, Tokyo, back to Taiwan, I’d gone to pick him up; on the evening, I’d take him to the beer house in Tokyo, he’d asked me to, stay for the night at the hotel, and, told the thrilling moments he’d encountered in Beijing to me in one breath.

There’s that tight ruler that Zhong-Ji measured himself by inside of him, especially on the means of interpersonal relations; he tight-lipped, only told of what he’d observed, nothing that will put a damper on someone else’s, reputations.  Once after he’d quit the job of a television station manager, as he’d sorted through his desk, I’d gone with him and his wife to dine, as Zhong-Ji went to the restrooms, Huei-Jen, his wife smiled and told me, that this man she had is really, easygoing, he’d made such a high pay per month, and yet, it was, so easy, for him to, let go of that, without a, second, thought.  That evening, Zhong-Ji did not mention anything from work, only comfortably, drank and ate, but, I’d observed, that there was, something, going on, in his mind, that’s, not spoken, aloud.

illustration from UDN.com

During his time at Fuxing Airline, he’d gotten involved in two crashes of the airlines, toward these sorts of bad predicament, most would dodge all they could, but, the owner of the airline asked him how he was to answer the massive media inquiries, Zhong-Ji told him that he will tell the press about the most difficult section, the payments that will be made to the families who’d lost their loved ones in the crash.  In the podcast, “Fearing Death, Wanting to Live Longer”, I’d asked Zhong-Ji why was he willing to, get himself, in that, huge, mess?  He’d told, that he was once a member of the media press, that it was not possible, to take himself out of something this major; at the same time, he’d not feel proper, to just act as a bystander, as the company he worked for, goes into the line of, fire, wanted to use empathy to face the families, who must feel the panic, the losses of their, loved, ones.

He’d continued, that a lot of the families are already in deep distress, and started cussing him out, to cussing his own families out too, but, Zhong-Ji did NOT act upset one bit, he’d empathized, that had it be his own loved ones who’d died in the crash, could he use an even worse means to cuss out the airline too?  And so, he’d flown to China, to help sort out the means of compensation of a mother-daughter pair, the families ordered him to get down on his knees, and had the Taiwanese-Chinese relations agent get down on their knees with him, he’d told me, had he not kneeled, how could the families feel okay, to sit down with him, in a calmer manner, to discuss the compensations with him?  By the same, in the mortuary, seeing how the undertaker had, worked their hardest, to patch up the corpse, how could he not kneeled beside the families?  That was, such, a huge HIT of sorrows, and loss for them!

A survived young man, was paralyzed from the waist down, it took him a total of five whole times, to get him to see him, and, he was made to stand outside under the scorching sun for over an hour, and, the survivor of the crash mentioned the Buddhist master, Shen-Yen, said that it was because of the words of the master, that’s helped healed him, Zhong-Ji immediately used his cell phone, to find the video of a recording of the Buddhist master, and the man’s attitude changed suddenly.  Following that, he’d not only been “graced” by the air-conditioning, the man also, served him some ice tea too, and, at that eighth time, the man finally signed the papers, to get the payments of the damages.  What touched Zhong-Ji the most was, the survivor, before he left, asked, “can we become friends?”

the man, apologizing at a press conference for the crash to the public, photo from online

Zhong-Ji, after he witnessed the ups and downs of life, life and death, was hit hard, with his own, cancer.  He’d told me peacefully, that based off of the prognosis, he had no more than six years at best, but, in only a year and a half, after he was, injured inside and out, he’d finally, turned in his, timesheet in life, and ran towards the embraces of, Buddha.  The moment I’d heard the news of his passing, there was, a scene that’s, frozen, before my eyes,, what his wife, Huei-Jen had, sent to me—his son, Jen-Ning readying to go to the hospital to donate his own marrows to try to save his, father, when Zhong-Ji hugged onto his son, who’s, a head taller than he was tight, with his face, distorted, crying so hard.

And so, this is what this man left behind after he’d died, with his means of treating others kind and gently, and, his actions AND his words, are exactly identical, which was truly rare, especially in today’s, world.

This man had the amazing work ethics, the right way of treating others, and, that’s something, that we can all, learn from!

Blessings

The love, care, and concern goes, both ways, when the parents showed that they cared for their young, their young will naturally, reciprocate too, translated…

The department I asked to get transferred to a little over six months ago, don’t know if it’s how I didn’t suck up, or that there’s that unmatched fengshui, a senior employee had zoomed in to me, and used an assortment of measures, to give me troubles, or used sarcasm and mockery, to give me a hard time, and it’d troubled me, because I’d always, kept my head low to work, did what’s, assigned to me.

Several times I’d gone back home, and as I’d sat after meal to talk with my parents, I’d told them the troubles the woman was giving me at work, and, I did this, so my parents wouldn’t have to worry over me, on how I was, adjusting to working in the, brand new, department.

And, this time as I’d gone home, my mother told me secretly, that at bedtime, when he and my mother prayed, they would both, asked Buddha to get the senior female employee off my back.  As I’d heard my mother told me, I’d half jokingly told, “the gods are so busy, how would they find mind for these, minor, matters of me!”, actually, I’d felt, wonderful, that they’d cared for me to do such a thing.

And, what I’d not said that I’d, kept hidden was, that if the wishes can come true, I hope, that my parents will forever stay as healthy as they are, after all, the flairs we get at work are only, temporary, only the health of my families are what’s, most, important, that, is what I, truly, wish, for.

And so this is on how the parents worried about their offspring, despite how they are already adults, and this woman, she felt her parents’ heart, and in turn, she’d hoped, that her parents will have good health, the love is, reciprocated here.

Independent as We Age

The right attitude, that we should keep, in observing someone else, and reflecting over the things in our own, lives…translated…

I was conversing with my neighbor opposite of me, saw our upstairs neighbor, Mei-Feng riding her bicycle out to work, looking at her, getting farther, farther, and farther away, my neighbor told me, “didn’t Mei-Feng say her son is a manager of a bank, making $100,000N.T. a month, so, why is she still working?  Cleaning the houses, working her hands to the bones?”, then, the neighbor smacked her lips, seemingly doubting, that our neighbor’s son’s working as a bank manager was, untrue.  Then, she’d, shifted the subject to her own home, two daughters, one works in a public agency, the other, a university professor, “they’re amazing, all very, good”, my neighbor claimed.

And, although I’d not responded to her comment on Mei-Feng, but I’d, started that inner dialogue of disagreeing with her.  There were, at least, TWO things she may be mistaken on: first, based off of her logic, if the children are paid a high wage, then, the parents can rely on their offspring, and not work anymore, that they should retire early, and start living their retirement.  Secondly, when the son is paid so high, and he’d still allowed his mother to work her hands to the bones, that does, NOT fit the values of filial piety at all.

Mei-Feng’s son works in a bank sure, not long ago, she’d, handed me her son’s, business card, so I can give him a call if and when I need to.  Her husband doesn’t take care of the family, for years on end, she’d raised her own three sons, by working as a janitor; sometimes, she’d shared with me happily, that the younger people where she’d worked, would give her things, treat her to beverages, calling her aunty, she was pleased, and called the ladies her good girls.

illustration from UDN.com

She’d not complained about her current line of work, she’s, enjoying herself in working.  She’d told, that in her work, she got to talk with the younger generations, staying, connected with the society, she does NOT want to retire yet.  And, although her son is highly paid, she’d wanted to become, self-reliant, to NOT rely on her son, to provide for her.

And, her beliefs were correct, there’s enormous pressures in the current world, it’s difficult for any of us to survive, even  in the closely related family dynamics, nobody wants to, rely on, anyone.

And, I was reminded how when in the off-seasons, the manager wanted a coworker to take the unpaid leaves, she was upset.  And the manager mocked her, “didn’t she say, that her husband makes million dollars per year?  Why would she mind, if I put her on unpaid, leave?”, I found the words to be, ignorant, when the husbands can make a lot of money, that’s on the husbands, as wives, women still needed to become, economically, independent.  So, I’d often told my two daughters, even if they are to marry in their futures, they need to keep their economic independence still, that way, they will have their, dignities.  And, for me, I would want to continue work as I grow older, and, I plan to retire AFTER I’m sixty-five, and, if my physical health allows, I want to part-time, to NOT rely on my children, to NOT burden them.

As for if others are as they’d told, paid really well, feeling skeptical about it, I don’t believe it’s necessary that we act like that, we should be glad, that, they have everything that they need.  No matter how old, not relying on anyone, independent, and being a self-made person, that’s what fits us, best!

And so, this is the values: not relying on anyone when we are older, continue to work, to contribute to the societies we’re, living in, not using that sour grapes mindset because someone seems to have it better than we do.

The Sounds of, Silence 6~7

Continuing from before, the philosophies of, life, translated…

6.

The philosophy of pessimism is the lyrical, the philosophy of optimism, the lyric optimism.

All of the philosophies are the untruths, it all has to do with the various philosophers’ own feelings.

Understanding this, would we still, laugh about the philosophers?  No, we would respect them more.

And so, this showed, how until we understand what something is actually about, we do NOT have the right to comment on it, because we hadn’t gotten known the subject completely, inside, and out yet.

7.

For a lifetime, we all need to work hard, to create our own, worlds.  Whether if we’re fishers, farmers, carpenters, or painters.  Rodin the painter once stated, “I gave my life to it (art).”

It’s true, man’s destiny  is work, but, we must, make work, our, dignity.

This is on, whatever it is you do, do it, with DIGNITY, and if you don’t, then, you would lose the reason why you are doing, what you’re, doing it (whatever it may be!) for.

The Security of a Preschool

A man, who works in an entry level position, with the higher work ethics, comparable to the managers and bosses here, if we have more workers like this then, this world will function, a hell of a lot, more, smoothly for sure!  Translated…

Last September, as my young granddaughter started in preschool, the first day I sent her in, the security guard at the gates saw her nametag, stated, “Good morning, Riya.”, during the time, she was really into the fairytales, and so she’d blurted aloud, “I’m princess Riya!”, and the security guard smiled back at her naturally, ‘Yes, my princess!”, and it’d left that good first impression with us, and ever since, every single day, he’d greeted her with “Good morning, Princess Riya”, or, “Bye-bye, Princess Riya.”, showed how he was amazing to young children.

hard working individuals like this, who keep the school campuses, safe…photo from online

After I’d observed this interaction for a whole season, it’d, disclosed to me, what’s really underneath the man’s, mask.  He is, too patient, kind toward all the adults, as well as the young children too, even though the mask covered up half his face, and we can’t see his full expressions on the face, but, his performance for work was more than enough, to make me note his good work ethics.  What was rarest was, he’d memorized the more than two hundred faces of the students, their names, and the appearances of their, parents too, and every afternoon as we’d come to pick the kids up, the parents get to know his superpower.  This meant, that he’d put everything he had into working as a campus security, and used this open mind and means, to interact with everybody he’d, encountered, so very, amazing.

As the world is under the dark clouds of the pandemic, there’s too much unsettlement internationally, our society is able to steady itself, and it’s all due to many of the entry level employees such as this campus security guard, keeping at their, posts.

And so, this is, a sort of an ode to all those, entry level workers, they are, the bottom of the ladder, and, without them, the rest of what’s higher up can’t steady themselves, because, we need a solid foundation at the bottommost layer of the socioeconomic ladders.

This man really works very hard, to have everybody in the school memorized for their faces, their names, as well as all of their, next-of-kin too.

It Wasn’t Those Ladies Who’d Used the Wrong Methods

How you need to consider the kinds of clientele you want to attract for your own business, and, set up a plan to attract those target clients, the RIGHT way, instead of using this!  Translated…

Because of the pandemic, it’d been three whole years since I last set foot into the Taipei World Trade Center, prior to 2019, I’d gone every year to the international book expo.  In the earlier years, before the second Taipei World Trade Center was torn down, I’d worked in sales in the building; several years later, other than working the stands there, I’d started involving myself in various forums, discussed the matter of copyrights; in recent years, I’d become the sponsor of various activities, seminars, meet and greet…….as well as selling my own books on the stands too.

The changes in my work in the book expo, it had to do with my rotating to another position, on the other hand, it has to do with the readers’ habits, as well as the demands of the, markets.  The international book expo was for the sake of sales of the copyrights of books, and yet, to get sellers worked to get the sales up, while those with the ideals, worked to emphasize the importance of reading, this is clear, in this, cultural expo.  With the clear goals set, there would be the desired gains, but going in blind, using the wrong means to meet the end goals, and it will cause everything to get, wasted.

this was the Book Expo back in 2019…photo from online

One year, in front of my former work’s stand, was the then major English cram school, the company had three young girls, with the three-inch thin silver boots, dressed in the white shirt black mini skirt, with heavy makeup on, and the voices that sounded very airy, and handed out the questionnaires to all who pass by, and, if people tried to dodge them, the girls not only blocked the paths with their arms, they’d even, hooked their arms around those who wanted to, get, away.  Close by to the stand, there were, the fanatics of anime, the readers of fictional literature, as well as parents and children too, the cram school was already, an “odd duck” there, and, they’d used this means to attract the customers, it’d made many who were their disgusted.

This show would come on at the most populated time during the weekends, at noon, when the crowds were rushing in, we were too busy, we’d not had any attention to pay to the girls.  It wasn’t until as the day slowed back down into the early evening hours, as the crowd dissipated, the girls still stood at their posts, and, continued that act, and they’d even, started, trying to get the attentions of not the customers, but us, the other booths and stands.

The editor, S, shook her head, “they are, good, even IF I looked like that, I wouldn’t, dare SHAKE like they do, to get the customers.”

“What’s so great about it, they’d used, the wrong means”, I’d told.

“Yeah?  Everybody likes to see the hotties shake it, and, isn’t it a good sales technique to have them pass out the questionnaires?”

“No, didn’t you notice, how the customers here, are all, too cold to them?  Why don’t you go and ask her.”  I’d looked toward one of the girls, “she’d run around all day, how many questionnaires did she get done?”

The girl caught us looking, smiled at us, walked toward us, chit chatted, and surely, there’s, almost no efficiency to the questionnaires she’d tried to hand out, but, we’d not filled out the questionnaires for her either, only said a, “you’d worked hard all day long”.  They’re paid by the hour, they wouldn’t earn less, if there were, less questionnaires, that got, done.

“You were just talking badly about them, and, you’d, had an interesting conversation with them just now, hadn’t you?”, S rolled her eyes at me.

“No I wasn’t.”

and you have something like this…

photo taken from a gaming expo, from online

“Yes you were, and you’d told, how they’d used, the wrong ways to attract people too.”

“No, it wasn’t them who’d used the wrong means, I’m talking about the cram school.”

The entry level employees, only followed the orders, and many had their own tragic stories, and, if they are talked badly about because of how they attracted customers, then, it’s the higher-up’s orders.

Later, this English cram school, stopped operating, due to bad management, that was, ten whole years, ago.

And so, this just showed, how, sometimes, we wanted to achieve some goals, and we’d, used what we believe to be the right means, and it wasn’t, which was what the operator of this English cram school had done, and, the ladies that were strutting, they were, selling their bodies, NOT the business, and besides, it is at a professional sort of a place, and, it’s the school that’s, set up the wrong means, not the individual workers’ faults, because they were only, following orders on what they are to do.

The Newspaper Deliveryperson

Interactions shared, with that someone who delivers the newspapers to you every day, and his work ethics drove you to continue to subscribe to the papers, translated…

Early that morn, I’d gone downstairs to retrieve my papers, found that there was a screwdriver inside my mailbox, because my family use this tool for work often, I’d not questioned it, and, took the screwdriver, home with me.

The following day, the paper delivery person called to inquire, asked if I’d found a screwdriver in my mailbox?  I told him I had.  He’d told me, bashfully, that the new delivery guy didn’t know the route yet, accidentally sent the paper into the mailbox of the second floor residents, and used a screwdriver to try to pry it back out, but accidentally, dropped the screwdriver into my box.  I’d started laughing out loud, a while later, that paper delivery guy came to pick up the screwdriver from me, I’d told him, you could’ve just called, and I’ll tell the residents on the second floor, why did you need to go through all the, troubles?  He’d smiled that, shy kind of, a smile.

Two mornings ago, as I was flipping through the papers at breakfast, I’d suddenly found, that the subsection of the paper went, missing.  This was the very first time I’d encountered this, could it be, that the newspapers forgot to print the section?  No, impossible!  I’d started feeling funny over my weird guesses, and asked the friend who also had her papers delivered, she’d told me, that there was, the subsection in hers, so, it must’ve been the delivery person who’d, forgotten, to put the inset in, then he’d, sent me a link of the online version of the paper, and told me, that I could write an article titled, “The Day of No Subsections of the Papers”.

like this??? Photo from online

From before when I had to rush off to work, I’d, flipped through the papers quickly, gulfing down my breakfast, and this day, without the subsection that I read, it got me to focus on eating my breakfast for once, it wasn’t, all that, bad at all, but I didn’t want it to happen again, so I’d called up the delivery person, and told him.  He apologized to me profusely, and a little later, I was heading downstairs to get to work, the delivery person came toward me, with the subsection of the paper that was missing from my newspaper.  And wow, he’d delivered that single page in the pouring rain, and now, I’m, ashamed of my self, I’d told him that it was no hurry, why did he have to come over in the downpour, after all, I could still find the section online to read off of.  He’d apologized to me, and said that it’s his, responsibilities to.

The second day I’d opened my mailbox, and found, that other than the United Daily I subscribed to, there was, an extra copy of another newspaper.  Whoa!  Is it, another, mistake again?  I’d called up the delivery person, he’d told me, that he was sorry he’d forgotten to put in the subsection of my paper yesterday, that he’d needed to make up for it with another copy of another paper for me.  Suddenly, I’d recalled an article from the Merit-Times, but couldn’t get it anywhere, and I’d mentioned it to the newspaper delivery person, and the next day, he’d, sent me a copy.

I’d felt warmed, originally, I’d considered if I need to, terminate the newspaper subscription, but, seeing how hard the delivery person worked, his passion, and his thoughtfulness, I’d, decided, to continue my, subscription, using this method to show him my gratitude, and support too.

And so, this is on work ethics, I mean, in the above situation, the delivery person can well tell the writer to go buy herself another copy, of the paper with the subsection that he’d accidentally, pulled out, and yet, he’d gone above the call of his responsibilities, brought back the missing pages of the papers, and, sent in another copy of another paper for her, and it’s this sort of warmth in the interactions that’s caused this newspaper subscriber to keep on, ordering the deliveries of her newspaper.

The Rainbows Keeping Watch Over the Phones Late in the Nights in the, Cities, a Passerby in Someone Else’s, Life

The volunteer lines for the LGBT communities, in training here, this is something that’s, needed, with the increase of sexual and gender diversity, translated…

“Hi, this is the homosexual hotline, how may I be of service to you!”, this was the instinctive response that got etched into my mind the year I’d worked as a call receiver of the hotlines.  Picked up the phones, was like getting the buttons turned on, immediately, I’d gotten into the various modes of answering, ready to catch the LGBT communities’ various troubles.

I’d signed on to be a volunteer, right after the public policies votes.  That was when a lot of people felt upset, with the strong sense of, helplessness passing through the LGBT community.  “What can I do, for them?”, it’s this thought that’s, got me, involved.

The Tiny “Secret Room”

In the times of convenience communications app, who still use the landlines?  But, in the tiny room of the call center, there were, several landlines, with the volunteers, sitting in their seats, talking in whispers, looking a bit, mysterious.

Although it was called a “hotline”, but there are, a lot of the small cliques, for instance, “same-sex families”, “A.I.D.S. prevention”, “gender education”, etc., etc., etc., many of these groups needed to reach outward, the team members are all very active.  Comparing, the volunteers of the call center were much, quieter, and the other groups’ volunteers would always joked, “the call center volunteers are all, autistic!”

like peeling the layers of an onion off! Illustration from UDN.com

Surely, the most active place for the volunteers is, inside that tiny room, the door into the room was like a threshold, only the call operators are allowed in.  And, as we’d gone in to answer the calls, we’d, used the “false names”, and the privacies of every unique case does NOT leave the room, so, nobody knows exactly, what we’re, doing in there, and so, that made the other volunteers, feel, a bit, distant, to us.

It’s not easy to become an operator in that tiny room, we’d had to, go through the evaluations: signing up, getting evaluated, train for six months, and we had to pass an oral exam.

How Can Pressing an Elevator Button be an Obstacle?

But, I never imagined, that the very first obstacle I would come across, was pressing the elevator, button.

The location of the hotline office was at the busy Roosevelt Road, first time in, as I just stepped into the elevator, about to press the button for my floor, I’d, hesitated—there’s, a ton of different folks in and out of the building, there were, the employees of the offices, and also, the residential elderly people too.

The alarm started sounding inside my mind, like everybody was staring AT my, finger, I’d feel anxious: how would the perceive me, after I’d, pressed the “12” for the floors?

But, it’d not mattered which number I’d pressed, there are more than the hotline office on the twelfth.  For a while, I’d felt uneasy over the reactions—but, WHAT was I, fearful, of?

This shame and secret got buried in my mind, and, for a very long, long time, as I got to talking with the volunteers of the hotlines, I’d found, that I wasn’t, alone in feeling like so.

Getting Involved with the LGBT Communities & Getting to Know Myself Again

After I got past the obstacle of the elevators, first what I’d needed to learn, is getting acclimated with the LGBT culture and the community: the gays, the lesbians, the trans, the bis, the gay and lesbian Christians, to the families of homosexuals, and we also needed to familiarize ourselves with the topics of safe sex, and the bad reputations for A.I.D.S.

“Gay” is too generalized a term, and we only know the tips of that huge, iceberg, so, going to classes was like opening up the minds, from the uses of the terms, the cultures (why are there more and more gay bars in business but the trans bars going out of businesses?), to the societal debates (how the H.I.V. patients would get turned down by the dentists?), and it’d made me wondered, was the world I used to know, for real?

And all of these, are what the callers faced, from their, day-to-day interactions.  The male homosexuals’ are mostly concerned about their statures; the lesbians, dealing with the dual impacts of being females and lesbians, and, with the Gay bars more in numbers than the T-bars, which made well be related to how the females can’t feel safe enough to go out at night.

There are a ton of callers who worried over illnesses too, they’d gotten scanned multiple times, but still worried of contracting A.I.D.S.  Reason why this is a primary fear is due to how the media press equated H.I.V. and A.I.D.S. with gays and lesbians, which is why those who’d contracted H.I.V. still keeps on hitting the walls in their lives, for instance, the dentists would use the excuses of “we don’t have the equipment to offer you your needed treatment” to turn them away, but, others who have illnesses by blood contact rarely got, stereotyped or, discriminated against.

Other than knowing those who aren’t the same as we are, we also need to get to know ourselves.  That’s where the “groups” came in, the volunteer candidates would split into groups, led by those with most experiences to supervise, to take turns sharing the experiences, to dissect life, the process of accepting, hen, with the supervising individual, and the rest of the group, offering positive feedback.  Before we can help anybody else, we need to know our own, selves, this was, what I’d learned, the most important lesson, of all.

The Rehearsals that Left My Heart Bumping

Surely, we also needed training in the, various, counseling, techniques too: identifying the emotions, empathy, and disclosures of our own, selves, and know the S.O.P. of taking the calls of the hotlines: greeting the individuals, understanding why they’re calling, in the conversations, collecting the data about the persons (i.e. age, students or in employment, gender orientation, gender identification, city the individuals live in, etc., etc., etc.).  After we get to know some specifics about these individual callers, we’re, better able to, give them the fitting, responses.

The supervisors in class often told us, “don’t rush into giving advice”, if the advices are unfitting, to the point of not responding correctly to the callers’ problems, then, we would be misunderstood as we can’t understand them, instead, catching the callers’ emotions first, to establish that trust in conversation.

On paper, it all sounds, simple, but, putting these theories to practice, that was, something, else!  We would split up into groups, the supervisors would play the caller, we’d taken turns, answering the calls, and, the members whose turns are still on the way, would sit close by and take notes—those exposed, the wrong words being used, the awkward silence, all get, captured down, and we would be evaluated on afterwards.

The supervisors used a multitude of means to interact with us.  Some had, comforted us, “this is only for a few short minutes, you can, do it!”, while other supervisors get into characters right away, started in the roleplay, cried, ranted, cussed, everything, and it’d, made us, too flustered—while in reality, that, is how, multifaceted the callers can be in our line of, work!

Am I, Only, on the, Starting, Lines?

After the test trials, can we start, working on, the, hotlines?  Not yet!  There’s still, a final, and not everybody passes!  On the day of the test, the supervisor I was assigned to played the role of an anxious mother of a gay/lesbian person, started grilling at me, “how do I know that my son/daughter is gay/lesbian?”  “Can’t my child become, ‘normal’ again?” I’d used empathy, to get to the emotions being the caller, avoiding the “right answers” that might “kill”, fearing the caller would, hang, up.  But, she’d not accepted my means, and continued on, and I was, stuck.  As the session ended, the supervisor asked me, “why didn’t you just tell me that you didn’t know?”, then, it’d, dawned on me, how multivariate the callers can be, that there’s no one-answer-fit-all, and we can only, search for the right direction in the words of, our, exchanges.

I’d felt, very, defeated, and felt that I’d not, passed, as I got home, I was so upset, I’d finished a whole can of, chips.

And yet, a week later, I received the notice that I’d been, approved for the, hotlines, and I still can’t understand why I had, passed!  After this “round”, I’d finally realized, that to work as a hotline operator, we need to have a very strong, heart, but, this was certainly, to make sure, that all the hotline operators are highly qualified to work the lines, not to miss any caller.  While, as I’d started working in the hotlines……well, another story, for, another, time!

And so, this, is the training process of someone, becoming a hotline operator for the LGBT communities, because there’s this desperate need, for these individuals’ voices, troubles to get, heard, and yeah, we are now, more opened to the LGBT groups, but, there are still the issues that these individuals come across in their daily living, that they may need an outside perspective to help them see things more clearly, and that, is where this hotline comes in.

The City at the Far End of the Skies

How we are the ones, destroying EVERYTHING, from the views of, “lesser” creatures in nature…translated…

In the barrenness of the fields, there were, many different, species of living organisms, cramping up that tiny passage, crawling, toward the unknown boundaries far, far away, toward the distant, skies.  For the sake of migrations, the living organisms continually made the new roads, the bulldozers, the till, the tractors, the machineries, turned the small path into a major road.  And, the antennas, the footprints of other living things, were all, destroyed, broken, and bled.

the photograph that came with this passage by the writer, courtesy of UDN.com

“How far away is, the sky?”, a ton of living organisms wondered.  The avenues, the boulevards, from the lowered end of the horizon, stacking up, higher, higher, and higher still, expanding toward the skies.  “Would those be the clouds that appeared, by the edge of the skies?”, the living organisms pondered, wanting to, sit on the clouds, to cross that, border.  “Would there be the stars, the planets by the edge of the skies?”, the living organisms want to depart from earth.  It’s just, that at the far end of the road, on the other side of the skies, was a city, built by, man, the appearance of the city, with the tall buildings, erect, like the monsters of, civilization, welcoming, rejecting?  Is it, defensive, or, offensive?”

The living organisms decided to crawl toward that city on the edge of the skies, and so, they can only, turn themselves into, tanks with the feet underneath their bellies, the cannons like the antennas, the winged rockets, fighting the thoughts of, human, being.

And this would be, the adverse effect, of urbanization, as we humans take over, there are, less and less natural habitat for all the other living things, the wildlife in the areas, and we humans, are the, EVILS here, DESTROYING the living habitats of nature’s creatures.

Liang, of the Lotto Ticket Shop

A story of hope, of how someone helps someone out, with someone else’s, introductions, how these connections worked, translated…

During the time I’d had a couture shop in Tainan, there would be the street artists who’d performed at the plaza on the weekends, and the plaza was no more than twenty-meters away from my shopfront, and, I could hear the music standing at the counter.  One afternoon, I’d heard a mature performing voice singing in Taiwanese, it’d sounded like the Taiwanese famed singer, “Only You”, I’d immediately run outside to see, it was a man selling the lotto tickets, his voice full of confidence, with the scent of the worldly attracted many tourists to stand around him, listening.  That was at a time when I got really into discovering the “famous in the world”, I’d gone up to carry on in conversation with the man, and learned that his name is Liang, that he’d sold the lotto tickets by trekking around.

Liang has his own principles in selling the lotto tickets, never forced anyone to buy from him, and, as he saw people passing by him, he’d, nodded towards them if they’d made eye contact, not wanted to give anybody the stresses to buy a ticket from him.  Sometimes, I’d asked him to the back of the resting area out back of my shop to have a drink, or to have something to eat, and carried on in conversations, heard him tell of how he loved the music classes in his middle school years, and now, he’d felt blessed to have the opportunities to sing for someone who wanted to hear him.  Singing gave him the self-confidence, and it’d, given him a stage too.  There’s that let’s get this place noted back then, and, as a T.V. show came to interview Liang, the neighbors helped Liang to host a coming out concert, set up his fans page, and, put out the items to sell, I became his agent, and made the business cards for him, it seemed like playing, and we were all, into, this “game” for sure.

Then, after that, something that impressed me deeply happened.  The presidential election was happening, on the day of the votes, I’d bumped into Liang, he’d told me that he couldn’t find his notice to vote on paper, that he’d not gone to cast his ballot, I’d told him that he could use his identification card.  And Liang saw that time is about to be up, felt that he wouldn’t be able to make the deadline, and, gave up on going to cast a vote.  Because I’d known which candidate he’d supported from our chats, and knew that he’d cared about this too much, although I was back at my shop, and I’d felt, tangled up inside then, kept replaying the way he’d looked, like he’d gotten used to giving up on trying things he couldn’t manage.  So I’d, run out to find him, planned to get him to the voting station on my scooter, I’d asked the elderly woman at the rice shop, the owner of the fruit stands, his favorite fish soup, the bank he’d gone to the most, and finally, I’d, caught him at a drink shop, immediately hollered at him to get behind me on my scooter.

The voting station was close to where he lives, but quite a distance from the drink shop, and finally, as the voting station was three minutes to closing, we’d, made it.  Liang, with trembling hands, carried his identification, got in, and, with the local police and the man in charge of the borough, escorting him, he’d, successfully, cast that vote.  That year, the man whom he’d voted for got on: every man is equal, the worth of that vote of his, valuable.

Later, I’d, left that street, and from time to time, I’d, gone back, and bumped into Liang, bought a lotto ticket, said hi, and he’d asked me, if I could print out the business cards for him again, or maybe, that time voting gave him a brand new identity.  Recently he’d shared, he won the drawing for the operation right of a lotto shopfront, but he’d still wanted to go into the streets to sell the tickets, and, transferred the right to operate the shop to a man who’d looked out for him a lot, the man is his fans, and, named that shop with Liang’s Fans Page on FB, I’d heard, and started laughing, I so loved it, when the world’s like this.

And so, this is a story of ordinary people, ordinary interactions with the world around them, and, how there’s still hope to find in this world, how there are the lights that shine brightly, despite how dark the world’s getting here, and, these are the stories we’re in need of right now, of how people help each other, without expecting anything in return.