 One day, I wanted to have a long walk before going home. I thought it would be helpful to recharge my energy even though I was carrying two big bags. I could not recall whether I had something on my mind or I was lost in thought. I was robotically crossing one traffic light after another. There were a lot of things happening around me, but I numbed my senses to them. I embraced myself in the bubble of daydreams and passing thoughts. When I passed the 42nd street Port Authority, it was crowded with people. I sensed that there was a child walking toward my direction with his/her family. I didn't pay attention of his/her face. I just knew they were so close that my bag on my right shoulder could bump into the child at one point. So, I turned my hip swiftly to make room for the child to pass by. Then, I heard a woman screaming:" Oh my god!" I thought it could be another "normal", dramatic moment that people have encountered every day in New York City. So, I ignored what I heard and kept walking. After walking a block away from the Port Authority, I noticed a man from behind called to me :"Excuse me! Excuse me!". I pretended not to hear it at first as I thought he might want money or something. After he insisted on having my attention, I stopped and looked at him. I was a bit concerned that something unpleasant would happen. The man told me that my bag hit his son. His son fell down and cried. The father did not show anger, but he was urging me to apologize to his son. I realized the moment that I heard the scream was probably the mother crying for the child. I didn't know whether I really knocked the child down or not, but I believed what the father said. I explained my unintentional act and apologized to him. The father satisfied with my apology and walked back to his family. It was a relief that nothing dramatic happened.
Although I didn't feel good about what I did, the sense of guilt didn't stick with me long either. It was because I didn't have the memory of the incident. However, I believed the father said the truth. Did I really hurt the child? If I did, am I a bad person? Should I blame myself not being mindful of my actions? Should the parents have the responsibility as well to keep their child safe? Should I hold New York City accountable for desensitizing me to people around me? Or, should I be thankful that the father just came to me for an apology instead of revenge? I let the questions sit with my thoughts. I realized how much we habitually and sometimes chronically see things the way that we want to see rather than to see them as they are. It reminded me one of the Zen masters, Shunryu Szuzuki. In his book, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, he said: "The true purpose of Zen is seeing things as they are, to observe things as they are, and to let everything go as it goes. This is to put everything under control in its widest sense. Zen practice is to open up our small mind." I am not sure if my small mind has been opened yet, but I am reminded to be aware, to see the world around me as it is, and to learn how to stand in someone's shoes.
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 Fall is a romantic season for some people. For me, it is a season of reflection which inspires me to organize my thoughts. Last night, I went through the things that I wrote in the past year. It reminded me the relationship with my father, my home in Hong Kong and the life that I have created in New York. After visiting my family in August 2012, I wrote: In my family, we never express love verbally. Instead, we cook a big, delicious meal to show the care. Culturally, the more we care, the more we cook. "Have you eaten well and dressed warm?" - it is a typical question that Chinese parents ask their children. As a daughter of a 75 years old man, I have been asked the same question every time when I was on the phone with my father. When the question came up, I gave the same robotic answer: "Yes." Gradually, I started to call my father less. I was aware of my avoidance. It has been 12 years since I moved to New York. Without family around for these years, I have learned a lot about who I am through the change of life. I recognized how lucky I was born in this 20th century. Comparing with the old time of my father, I am more educated, living in a better environment and doing what I am passionate about. My mind is free and creative. My value and option are shaped by my own experiences and the world around me. I love my life. But, my father has a different idea of what my life should be in his traditional mind. He thought that woman in my age should be married and have children. I felt pressure to fulfill his idea. Two weeks ago, I woke up early on a Wednesday morning going to JFK for a 10:05am flight to Hong Kong. After all the repetitive security checks, I was on the plane getting ready to take off. However, my mind was running busily with worries and excitements. Mark, my new boyfriend, will be in Hong Kong the same time as me. I felt right to introduce him to my family, but I was afraid it may give a wrong idea to my father. 16 hours later, I was on the other side of the world. Right away, I found a comfort to be surrounded by a crowd of people speaking in Cantonese. I was definitely home. Homemade chicken soup, steamed fish, sweet and sour sauce prawns, Cantonese steamed chicken, stir fry Chinese broccoli – those were the dishes that my father cooked the first night I went home for dinner. They were all my favorite dishes. My father was happy to see my big appetite. He saw the opportunity and asked about my love relationship when I had my forth bowl of soup. This time, I could not avoid the question. Few days later, Mark and I had dinner with my father and my step-mother. Mark absolutely enjoyed my father’s fine cooking. My father was very pleased. He kept putting food to Mark’s bowl. The night went well. It was better than I thought. I felt relieved. Later on, I shared with Mark about the expectation of my father on me and how he still saw me like a child. He reminded me that my father is a 75 years old man who does not have too much time left in his life time. And yet, he has been holding on to his traditional thoughts for many decades. “What do you expect him to change?” Mark said. He was right. I always think that it is an impossible task to deal with family member who has opinions and expectations about what my live should be. In certain degree, it is still very true. However, I realized that I am the one who creates the "impossible" thought. The impossibility is not about what he (she) thinks, but it is about how my mind responds to the thoughts. I noticed that I am the one who also expected my father to understand me - the change that I have throughout these years. In his mind, I am still his little girl. A friend of mine in Hong Kong asked me how I felt returning home. I told her that it was another rewarding trip to be back to my root. It reminded me how much I have changed and yet, how much I am still the same. After two weeks being in Hong Kong, I was back to the airport on the early Thursday morning. The flight took off at 9:20am. I was very relaxed and slept a lot on the plane. The flight arrived at JFK was about 1am in Hong Kong time. I took the A train and found my way back to my apartment. There were nothing change in my room except it needed to be dusted. The next day morning, I went to a dance rehearsal right away. I caught up the routine easily. It has been three weeks since I came back from Hong Kong. I called my father in Hong Kong this morning. He picked up the phone and sounded surprised that it was me. I guess he was not used to receive my call couple times this week. He thought I have something special to tell him. I said: "Nothing special. Just checking in" and then, I asked the date of his next doctor appointment. "Sep 25th" he answered. I told him that I will call again after his doctor appointment. Before I hung up the phone, my father said: "When you have time, remember to make some soup for yourself." I answered: "Okay." I said to myself that I will make some soup. However, it will never taste as good as my father does. |
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