The Ease of Happiness

It is easy to be happy.  But I forget.  It is also easy to forget- especially when one is a giant ball of stress.  I am stressing out about basically what others think about me- about research- what I think of myself.  What am I doing with my life?  What is anyone doing with their life?  Argh.

But it was Lola who reminded me of the ease of happiness yesterday- as we were going to Greenstar to get Ice Cream, and we were talking about French croissants and yoga and simple things, that I observed, it is easy to make Lola happy.  And I felt envious- that is a nice character trait to have- I want that character trait too. 

But then I thought about it a bit, and realized that I have forgotten it is easy to make me happy too.  Good food.  Warm tea.  Music you can dance to.  Cozy conversations.  Sleeping in.  Being indoors on a rainy day.  And French croissants. 

But sometimes I try too hard.  Try too hard to be happy.  Try too hard to make friends.  Try too hard to learn how to flirt.  Try too hard to work (and get really frustrated when I get stuck).  And things don't really flow.  I've been reading "Tao-te-ching" and "The Tao of Pooh" lent to me by a dear friend.  And it is reminding me how sometimes you have to let things flow naturally.  Be yourself.  Trust in the universe.  And just let things happen- even if they don't go your way- even if you think they are bad things.  The Taoist principle 無為 (woo-way), which sort of translates as "do nothing", is not really laziness or inaction, I realize slowly to not go against the nature of yourself or of your surroundings...  or in western culture, this is called "The Pooh Way."

So - I will stop letting my stress and mess and myself get in the way of happiness.  Because there is much to be pleased with - it is summer, Ithaca is beautiful, we are young (and can still effortlessly walk, breathe, dance, laugh), and life continues to unfold in expected and unexpected ways.  (AND~ pretty soon I'll be having one of those French croissants!)

Gossip

So my new bff, who shall remain nameless, was jealous that I didn't mention him in the last blog post: "Serendipitous Connections".  In my defense, it was written before we bonded over gossip. 

So this is what this blog post will be about- dedicated to you know who you are…

I have mixed feelings about gossip. 

Sometimes I have the suspicion it is toxic.  But then being in the know and knowing tiny details about others gives one a sense of belonging to a community.  It is also a  way to feel closer to a person- to share secrets.

And usually that's the way I gossip- about myself.  I am like an open book to all my friends.  They usually know all my secrets.  Sometimes so many people know my "secret", that really it ceases to be a secret.  Not that I have especially juicy ones- usually its only my anxieties and thoughts and frustrations and crushes.  I will share them with most of my friends without thinking or evaluating the possible consequences of being so open.

I also like having the listener reciprocate with secrets of their own, and delight in knowing their innermost thoughts, emotions, fears and scandals… not that many people have delightful scandals.  But I only feel close to somebody once they open up and tell me things they don't share with just anyone, either revealing vulnerabilities or some darkness or some depressive state.  So if you are one of those people who don't have any of those things going on in your brain, and are generally sunshine and happiness, I don't think I'll ever feel you are a close friend.  Sorry.

But then gossip can also be misused.  To confuse situations or stir trouble or cause misunderstandings.  One must be careful in not being malicious about gossip or accidentally spreading gossip that may be hurtful or embarrassing to others.  I have made the mistake more than once of doing the misdeed of spreading such gossip.  I have also made the mistake of revealing too much about myself that it has caused a bit of embarrassment to my own self.

So it is a hard act to balance.  So maybe I should gossip less.  But then my new bff and I would have nothing to talk about. 

Serendipitous Connections

The other day, outside of my habitual mourning of connections severed, lost, distorted, dropped, or faded- I realized on the flip-side I should rejoice in those serendipitous connections.

This post is for the friend I serendipitously met at an interschool mixer where we bonded through our lamentation of the lack of hiking boots in our friends' lives.  I think now I believe in "Friendship at first sight."  Through all our busyness I think we have not gone hiking even once together yet- but thanks for all the lunch gatherings, and gossiping, and anecdotes about life in the Law School.  You're wonderful and a reminder that serendipity is beautiful.

This post is for my friend far away in Mumbai who I was really excited to get a call from on Sunday, who I met by chance on a ride to Boston.  I almost didn't meet you, cause you made a last minute decision to take me up on my rideshare offer.  I remember we talked for 6 hours- I never knew I could sustain a conversation with somebody for so long.  I miss having your company in Ithaca- but I know other meaningful connections and exciting journeys are in your path.  The world is your oyster, it's so much larger than Ithaca, and also slightly larger than Mumbai, don't forget!  There are also lots of cute/wonderful/decent guys out there.  (Somewhere, but don't ask me where...)  

This post is for my colleague and as of late travel-mate where we've suddenly had the circumstance to share lots of high density bonding time.  That magical mixture of a few drinks and nobody else to hang out with might never happen again for us.  But truly you are awesome and funny and nice.  You are nice- you shouldn't deny it.

Last, but not least, this post is for my darling friend who recently shared with me stories of serendipitous encounters with new interesting people, and exciting new possibilities for life.  And for that crazy evening where we had froyo at Smart Yogurt, then bubble tea and mochi at CT Bento, then apple pie a la mode and cheese fries at the State Diner.  You appreciate serendipitous connections in the way I'd like to appreciate them.

I'm trying to use these tidbits, joyful little scraps, to encapsulate the joy of serendipitous connections.  Every day I'd like to record somehow those interesting conversations or warm exchanges or crazy dessert nights or sad stories or shared anxieties- but I am not skilled enough as a writer to capture their texture.  So for now, I'm learning to be grateful, to the universe, for these connections, however shortlived.  Even if I forget the details one day, I am so glad for the existence of you, and you and you and you who have made all these days wonderful.

Writing: The Story of Stories

When I was young I wanted to be a writer.  Mostly because I loved books, books held a magical power over me.  And I was such a bookworm.  While my healthy active sister played outside with neighbors, I liked to sit inside with a pile of library books, solitary.  I think I went so far as preferring books to people.  My greatest anxiety in life was that there were too many books in the world, and I would not be able to read all of them before I died.  It took me awhile to realize that not all books are worth my time.  But to this day, I still get slightly depressed at the fact that there are worthwhile books and movies that I will never cross paths with.   This is the power stories have over me.

 I remember as early as I was 9 or 10, I would have spiral notebooks filled with a few failed attempts at writing a novel.  Every night I would lie in bed dreaming of characters and plots and how to begin my novel.  But beginnings were all I had.  I never got beyond three chapters before I decided my story was stupid and boring, and then I would go make up another one.

This is why I gave up this dream.  I felt I never had any interesting stories to tell.

I did not lack encouragement.  Once in awhile I would have something published or win a small school-wide writing competition, and I came across teachers from elementary school through college who had good things to say about my writing, and they tried to encourage me to polish my grammar, learn more vocabulary, and read more books.  (My writing in Mandarin has always been plagued by some type of English style grammar and vice versa…). 

Other than that there was a deep feeling that I couldn’t write interesting stories, that I hadn’t experienced enough of life or human nature to actually write about life and human nature.  And I was always an ambitious girl- I wanted my work to be moving, important, profound!

Laziness and ambition are a bad combination.  No it is not an impossible combination.  These people are what we call dreamers.  I guess I am a dreamer.  So it is in part laziness I chose to be a scientist, where the material for the stories I would tell were in some sense “written in the stars”.  I just had to learn the language to tell them.

But now, I am trying to be “un-lazy” by blogging about my mundane life.  It was actually Sumiran, my office-mate who accidentally motivated me to start doing this.  We were talking one day and as usual I was blabbering and going into detailed descriptions about the origin of my every statement (this my friends somehow bear patiently while hiding their annoyance).  And Sumiran made an observation: “You talk like a writer.”  I was amused, “How? Why?”  “The way you seem to be thinking about how to say things…”  And I admitted to him I love writing.  I crave to write something important! Gigantic! Magnificent!  Somehow he pushed me in the direction of “start somewhere, start small.”  And so I started this blog.

Nobody's Perfect

So many songs and stories are composed this way, so many movies and TV shows, and so many glowing couples around us think this way.  We expect our romantic partner to be our soulmate and companion, "our all", "our everything"- the one person who understands us know us is there for us.

But, lately I've been thinking, is that a reasonable expectation?  What is a reasonable expectation of a partner? (Darn, I'm starting to sound like SJP from Sex and the City...)

Now I am probably the least qualified person in the world to go on a rant about this, since I've only ever had 1.5 long distance relationships, so in fact I really don't know how bad it can be or good if the person is or is not your soulmate.  But I recently read this very convincing book about "singlism" as a form of discrimination, how we automatically assume things about people who are single, how laws and workplaces favor those who are coupled.   She pointed out that due to our unreasonable expectation of the function of a spouse, as both best friend and lover, we overburden romantic relationships, and also neglect all other meaningful relationships.

And I know this all too well- many of my friends have little time for me when they are in a relationship (hanging out a few times a week becomes let's have dinner once every month or two months), when I invite somebody non-single to something, the reply is often, "well, i have to see about XXX (husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, wife)'s schedule."

But I am guilty too.  In dating, in finding someone to date, I am often "picky".   Not picky in the usual terms of appearance or job or age, but picky in terms of "what do you think about this random topic" "do you have a temper" "can you understand me" "are you a good listener" "can you make me laugh"... And usually I want all those things, and so logically of course there is no one that fits the bill, or the probability of meeting such a person is of course very low.  And then when I think I have met such a person, usually through the course of getting to know them some other issue crops up (such as "you don't really have the right sense of humor to understand my jokes"),  and of course then this person "is not meant for me".

And I realize I am setting the bar extremely high.  But my friends tell me I should, books and movies and self-help websites also say I should.   Every single glowing wedding invitation or declaration of love  seems to imply I should.  The only person who ever says I should settle for "good enough" or "a decent guy" is my mother.

After some deliberation, I think the resolution to this issue is not where one sets the bar.  But to really have reasonable expectations- and also find fulfillment and support in your friends and family.  Surround yourself with people who enrich your life and love you, regardless of whether or not you're single.  I don't know if this is the answer- I'm still working on it.  But feel free to share- what do you think?    


p.s. This post is dedicated to the friend I called today for the first time in 8-9 months.  I miss you!  We need to talk more!

Wired and Disconnected

For lack of better mother-daughter entertainment in Ithaca in the evenings, I got a dvd movie to watch for one of the evenings my mother was in town.  She therefore got the novel experience of watching me use a redbox kiosk.  "No wonder people are out of jobs."  She marveled after we had read through a few synopses on the touchscreen, picked a movie, swiped my credit card, and out popped a movie

Thinking back to my childhood neighborhood movie rental shop in Taipei, I am not sure if the loss of movie rental personnel as an occupation has contributed significantly to unemployment.  The small shop overflowing with VHS cassettes was run by a couple who usually took turns looking after operations, and the odd part-time (always young probably a student) employee or two would sometimes be there to relieve them.  What was distinct about those days was that renting a movie required human interaction.  The wife, much more sullen, rarely said anything.  However, the husband was a friendly guy, and whether with my dad or by myself we would exchange small talk.  Unlike netflix, he did not automatically make recommendations based on what we usually rented.  But more useful than netflix, you could go up to him and say, we want to see that new movie with Harrison Ford in it, the one where he's like a spy or something, but we forget what it was called.  And he would know what it was called, and go dig it out for us.  Or we would notice the movie playing on the television behind the counter, which was perpetually playing something, and we could ask him what it was, and whether it was worth watching.  Or we could ask him for the non-automatic recommendations in the form of "we want to watch something funny.  do you have any funny?"

I've been thinking about the value of such interactions lately.  Algorithms can't do such things yet, but I'm sure that maybe pretty soon they'll have most of the above transactions covered.  Computer scientists are improving on algorithms that can recognise your tone of voice or emotion, and then respond appropriately.  Machines may be able to do things better, faster and cheaper, but what is that sense of loss that keeps nagging me?

It irks me when I see a couple out for dinner or the movies, and they sit silently while one of the partners plays with their smartphone.  Conversation.  You could be having conversation I want to go remind them.  I am also bothered by the prevalence of texting or e-mailing as a the main vehicle of communication.  Don't get me wrong, I think these are wonderful inventions, smartphones and e-mail and texting and online chat.  I love that my computer is as fast as the supercomputers were when I was 5 years old.  It makes many things easier.  But when my roommates send me an e-mail when we are both at home, I wonder, is it so terrible to talk to each other?  I am also flabbergasted when people send me e-mails or texts a few hours before something important is happening, and expect me to respond or even see such things.  I remember when I was little my sister and I would try to avoid answering the phone, and let the answering machine do the job, lest we have to speak awkwardly with one of our parents' friends.  Nowadays, I am delighted when somebody calls me.  I even relish calling costumer service, it's so much nicer talking to a person than clicking through online links listed in not so informative search results.

How do I quantify this "niceness" of human interactions?  No it is probably not measurable in terms of monetary value, or immediate gain in profit margin.  But I am convinced there is value in talking to another person, face to face, reading their emotions, navigating responses, feeling charmed or pleased or angry or frustrated.  And I think it is worth the little inconvenience to perhaps preserve a bit of the human touch and stay somewhat connected, even for things we can automate.      

All Those Bandhas and One Goodbye

Actually there are three(?) bandhas- I always hear them mentioned in class or in some video or the other, but it's still quite mysterious which muscles I am supposed to be using.  (By the way it sounds like it's spelled "bunda" to me  when it's spoken, which apparently means something else in various languages.  "Buttocks" in portuguese, I think it is also Turkish for something...)

But there are many things I have yet to learn and experience in yoga, but I'm not in any particular hurry, because as David Swenson would say "Remember you have your whole life to work on your practice.  It will come in time.*".  And also because it has been only nearly a year since I've started yoga.

*Note:  I am not sure if that is the exact quote.  And also I use this excuse to not try headstand or any inversion or pose I deem scary.  It will come in time.

Late last August or early September, since I was bored of running on ellipticals at the gym, I decided to try out yoga as a new means of exercise.  At the Cornell fitness center,  I took my very first yoga classes from Elaine and Zach.  I remember, that at first, Elaine taught me flexibility and Zach taught me strength.  After awhile, I decided Zach was my favorite yoga teacher at Cornell, just because he had this way of teaching that made one want to challenge their own limits.  When I first started Zach's classes,  after a few rounds of his lovely elbow to knee abs, the next day I would feel my abs complaining, with every laugh they would say "this laugh is hard work".  But my abs grew to love elbow to knee.  I also  remember wanting to fall over and lie down midway through all of those standing poses he made us hold forever.  But now, probably due to this training, every time I practice Ashtanga, the part I love most are the standing postures.  And five breaths is not nearly long enough to enjoy the chair pose, seriously, we need to hold it longer.  And, ah, then there's dolphin.  I still hate that pose.

Anyways, I shouldn't be posting on my blog, because I should really be studying for my A-exam right now.  So I will get the point of this blog post.  Today was my last class with Zach.  I am a bit selfishly sad to see such a wonderful teacher leave Ithaca.  But goodbyes are a natural part of life, and so through this blog post, I say goodbye, a positive upbeat goodbye.  I'd like to thank Zach for being part of my introduction to yoga, and I'm sure that little bits of what I've learned from him will stay with me in some form for a very long time.   I wish him all the best for his new life in Houston.