Lunar New Year 4700Lunar New Year 4700
We are about to enter the New Lunar Year, which begins on 12 Feb 2002, and which is variously given as either the year 4699 or the year 4700 (depending on which source you heed) on the Chinese calendar...the Year of the Black Horse. Since it is considered inauspicious to discuss unhappy or negative subjects in this association, this conceivably just about shuts out the entire spectrum of possible discussion subjects for me, as far as meaningful monologues are concerned. True to my 'doggish' tendencies, I am and remain quite critical of most things that are less than perfect and probably persist in worrying a lot about things that are beyond my control to either influence or change for the better; very 'doggish', so I am told. But it does seem to apply to my nature, as do most of the many other traits attributed to people born in the Year of the Dog. Fortunately, this list of traits includes many positive characteristics (such as loyalty, discretion, honesty, integrity, etc.). However, be that as it may, and contrary to the previous month's rant about the ill advisedness of having children, it seems as if a useful, cathartic, and productive subject for this particular installment of the Mayday Cafe would be.....children. Or perhaps I should say 'a child'. Accordingly, the following will most likely shed some additional light on January's seemingly misanthropic musings..............
(Above: Beautiful rendering of the classical Chinese horse by artist Jen Zee, used here with artist's specific permission)
As a child who lost his father at the age of 4, I am acutely of the importance of the involvement of a father figure in the development of a young male child (or any child, for that matter). For many years, earlier in life, I maintained a duality of feeling about the ultimate wisdom of having children (evidence January's ascerbic commentary on the folly of introducing more people into an already overcrowded world), feeling on the one hand that I was probably one of the most well-prepared potential 'fathers' in the world and quite well aware of the critical importance that a father has in the continuing development of a child from that first and wholly helpless state of infancy into a fully actualised and responsible adult personality. Therefore, I had decided, if and when I ever had children, that I would strive to be the very best father a child could possibly have. However, circumstances were seemingly never quite right, in so far as meeting that special person with whom to share a real 'family' was concerned, and as circumstances have unfolded, I have never had any children of my own to fulfill that determination. But let me qualify that a bit further............
(Below: Chinese ideogram for 'horse')
The closest I ever came
to being a full-fledged father, in fact, was many years ago, while
involved in a relationship with a Chinese woman whom I had met at the hospital I was
employed at in the late 70s. This woman was a very complex person, having come over to
this country as a small "paper daughter" (as many Chinese immigrants did), but
also very bright, determined, full of resolution to succeed, and....I thought....quite
beautiful, also. Before I knew it, I was hopelessly in love with this exquisite person.
She had, by the time I first met her, just graduated from medical school back east and was
starting her internship at a San Francisco Bay Area teaching hospital. Having come from an
undergraduate and medical school program from the east coast, she had espoused radical
leftist sociopolitical sentiments in college, and had been involved with young Maoist
radicals. This had impressed me, since at that time China was still relatively closed off
and under the iron dictates of Chairman Mao. Chairman Mao's true nature was only to be
guessed at in this period, thanks to the 'Bamboo Curtain' and its
absolute opacity, and most of us young radical fringists regarded him as being truly a
heroic champion of the common people (only much later did all of the true nature of his
personality stand negatively revealed in all of its unhappy excess).
However, as my friend began her medical career, she underwent an almost predictable process of maturing growth that led her away from her prior leftist Communist Chinese leanings (in New York's Chinatown) as she embraced the rigorous demands of a typical American medical education. The western medical physician training program, unfortunately, leaves little room for the fragments of one's more youthful idealistic sentiments, as the harsh collision with reality that surviving the incredibly demanding medical training regimen constitutes made itself felt. At the time that we were going together, I was still a somewhat wild-eyed radical myself (although I was not a continuously enrolled student at that time, being ex-military and working as a lab technologist), hence I was fabulously attracted to this very bright and formidably resolute woman. Ironically, as my interest in traditional "Barefoot Doctor" medicine in Mao's China was growing, her development into a 'dues-paying' western physician was drawing her away from leftist radical sentiments and towards the professional elitist milieu one enters as a western doctor of medicine.
Unfortunately, my strong
(and seemingly paradoxical, for an otherwise left-leaning, 'peace-oriented'
person) interests in defense technology and military history were also in full bloom at
that time, thereby making me perhaps deserving of that ancient Japanese Bushido
regard as a "complicated person", but also creating an underlying
conflict in our relationship that I was not fully aware of. That these interests seem to
have run perpendicular to her own directional currents, was largely unbeknownst to me. My
beautiful and determined friend was following a conventional path that I, as an avowed
student of Ivan Illych's economic and medical philosophy, was (apparently) completely out
of touch with. The conventional driving emphasis on the natural attainment of material
goals in life that most people of Chinese ancestry are unconsciously imprinted with
(occupational success, family respect, home, wealth, and prestigious achievement) was
probably a major motivational force in her life. This mind-set presumably presupposed that
she and I were in tacit agreement to build our relationship into a full commitment,
followed by marriage, children, and all of the standard appurtenances of a successful,
stable, contributing, honorable, respected, and socially responsible life.
(Above: Classical Chinese ideogram for "New Year Greetings")
I, on the other hand, had always felt that the only reasonable way to be sure that one is ready for a commitment as important as marriage with someone was to live with that person for a protracted period and truly get to know them before making the translation into a full and formal marital status. This translated to living together for several years at least, before even considering marriage. She, on the other hand, was following, as I have interpreted circumstances retrospectively, an automatic and carefully calibrated internal biological clock that left no room for protracted foot-dragging by potential life-partners as her life continued, and I, on the other hand, was being the ever careful, cautious 'dog', who needed to be absolutely certain that this was the right person before making that final, complete and permanent commitment.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to either of us going along the same path (but at cross purposes), the seed of a small human life had been created, as it invariably will be when two people enjoy a fullness of intimate association. I, for my part, was stunned to find this out. She did not share her feelings on this with me, other than to determine that the timing was not appropriate for having a child in the midst of her uncompleted residency; therefore I do not know precisely what her innermost emotions were over this accident of biological necessity. No matter what her deepest ponderings were, the newly created spark of human life was shortly thereafter extinguished by a D&C in the cold sterile clinical surrounds of an outpatient surgery. Thus, the only life that I ever personally helped create was apparently little more than an afterthought in the continuously unfolding and fast-paced events of her life, as far as I am able to determine.
As for me--the reflective, overly sensitive person that I am--something important inside me was also extinguished when that little nameless spark of mysterious life force was dispassionately scraped from her womb, after a brief span of a few scant weeks. To say a part of my soul was figuratively ripped away by the finality of that act is certainly an allowable interpretation of how I felt, even then. Today I still think about this event with a leaden feeling, a dullness of spirit tinged by the slightly bitter tang of silent grief in the closed-off sanctuaries of my most private reflections. A short while later I recall writing some melancholy verse about this event that traveled with me to the 12,262 foot summit of the Sierra Matterhorn, where I placed it in a hollow of red Sierra soil, scooped from under the summit blocks of this special mountain. It is probably still there, too, now mixed with the earth and rock of that great high place that is my own spiritual mountain.
As for my
lovely friend, it was not long after this that she left me for another fellow, a law
student whom a friend of hers had (perhaps somewhat maliciously) referred to her, ostensibly
for his handy skills in home restoration and construction work. Regrettably, this unhappy
betrayal took place almost directly under my nose, since as a "good Berkeley
leftist" (perhaps a colossally stupid one, now that I have had many years to
ponder this), I intellectually accepted the conventional Berkeley 70s wisdom that a woman
was perfectly entitled to have platonic "men friends" as well as those of the
female persuasion. I chose to interpret the fact that this other fellow's increasingly
frequency at the house was attributable to his handy usefulness in working on the house
(her house, since she had bought it, although we were living in it together). The
possibility of this type of duplicity happening directly under my nose was unthinkable, of
course. It was, unhappily, an important lesson that I learned too late: "cuckolded"
is the word that come strongly to mind, whenever I think about the bitter spiritual
deception that occurred thereupon.
(Above: photo of little shop-girl by Genthe, San Francisco Chinatown, early 1900s)
Ironically, she later married this same fellow and they now have all that she apparently wished for: a stable and rewarding career as a physician, one beautiful natural daughter and another lovely adopted daughter from the PRC, a successful attorney for a husband, and a happy home. Although I wish her well and do not at all begrudge her the path that she chose to follow, the unhappy circumstances remain today as fresh and as vivid in my heart as they were when they originally occurred. The deep and intense pain that resulted from this ruptured relationship is still there, buried deeply, but still stirring restlessly like the magma of a subterranean chasm that has been forever closed off by miles of the densest stoney mantle. Amazingly, almost 20 years have now elapsed since we parted company and yet I am ever deeply moved to find that the memories of this still hurt with fleeting but palpable intensity, like the ghost pain of an amputated limb.
Perhaps it is a testimony to the 'dogged' tenacity and single-mindedness of the 'dog' personality; perhaps it is an opportunity lost that this other person never recognized, as well. But then, there is also an equal possibility that this is just a maudlin bit of gratuitously indulgent personal history that would have been better left unstated. Whatever the truth of these events is, it nevertheless serves to help explain much to me about who and what I am. In another, larger context, it also explains to me some of the significance of what love shared with others is all about and how terribly important the re-creation of that deep feeling in the form of new life is, catalysed from the simple biological confluence of two human beings. There is a lesson here also about what people bring to relationships, no matter how strong they feel their love is, and how their resources and assets are apt to be compared, in the final spiritual triaging, much in the same philistine manner one would chose a Porsche over a Yugo. Over and over...endlessly...this process repeats itself, as it has and will till the end of time...and shall, until the last human beings on the face of the earth are but a memory. But that is all we are ever ultimately left with at any rate, isn't it? Memories.....
If this reminiscence may seem strangely
inappropriate for a new year, with all its important potential for and emphasis on fresh
opportunities and new possibilities, I apologise. The lessons learned from the experience
related here were harsh, and although painful, quite useful. I learned that wild-eyed
romantics (temperamentally destined to be as penniless as Han Shan--but probably also
as happy) do not have as much to offer as economically striving and opportunistic young
law students who will be able to provide the conventional stability and necessary
financial success quotient requisite for today's typical, bright and upward striving young
woman of East Asian extraction. One of the less happy results was a hesitancy about whom I
trusted with intimate regard, from that point on, and an even more cautious approach
towards placing trust in others.
This is a bit of my life that I have heretofore carefully kept buried deep within and despite the somewhat less than upbeat nature of this episode in my life, there is definitely a cathartic quality in finally unburdening myself, in the telling, of some of the long-repressed, associative pain. My wish, consequently, is that the New Chinese Year of 4699 (or 4700) may truly be a happy one, filled with modest wealth, maintained good health, sustained vigor, and a carefully balanced modicum of spiritual love (for those who still have need of these transitory states of human aesthetic experience...and there are many). Above all, however,may the new year be filled with HOPE (that great mixed blessing/curse/balm and bain of human existence)......for hope is the last and ultimate human refuge with any real value in a fleeting world of misleading, illusory sensations, and without hope we would have all been truly doomed long ago..........
Feb 2002
(Above: My friend with two little neighbors--now very grown up--kite flying in the windy Berkeley Hills, 1981)
(For more information on artist Jen Zee and his creations, please click here)
