本命年

立春了！

前些天，小学群里面在争论本命年到什么时候结束，大年三十还是立春？保守点儿算吧，守到立春，怎么也可以松口气了。

真的是年纪大了，居然不自觉地开始相信这种东西，就算不是那么认真，至少是宁信其有的态度。小的时候可不是这样，虽然大人们总说红腰带，但一心想着长大的孩子们从来不会把本命年跟灾祸联系到一起，反而觉得这一年有作主人翁的快感。

一直以来，本命年是我最喜欢的年份，是我人生路上自己假象的重要节点，是我感觉自己瞬间长大的时间。

第一个本命年，我声势浩大地来到这个世界，据说是整个产房里眼睛最大，哭声也最大的一个，而且秃着头，完全不像一个女孩。

第二个本命年，我坚持要一个人坐着绿皮火车去上海，虽然最终爸爸找了一个出差的同事阿姨陪我，但在我脑海里，就是形单影只生活的开始。那一年奶奶做手术，我必须在，在我的认知里，我不是去添乱而是去拯救地球的。

第三个本命年，闷热的夏天一个人办完所有出国留学的手续，陪妈妈做完手术，平生第一次登上飞机，飞往了加拿大。落地的那一刻，兴奋和紧张难以分辨，以为五年之后就会学成回家，没想到从此家乡变成了故乡。

第四个本命年，毕业工作结婚生子之后的我举家搬迁，落户加州。形单影只的自由变成了拖家带口的牵挂，这牵挂是幸福是寄托也是软肋，是舍也是得，是飞翔之后不太情愿的着陆，也是面对生活的真实。

前几个本命年都和远行相关，一天天长大，一天天走远，又一天天安顿下来。直到这个本命年，终于没有继续远行，却忽然发现自己有点老了。眼睛开始花，关节开始僵，背打不开，腰时不常会伤，开始莫名其妙长肉，脸上的皱纹和斑点也开始遮不住了… 虽然每一样都不是太严重，但都足以引起了我的注意。不计年龄的我忽然想起来，今年是本命年了。

是时候了，岁月终究要留下点什么，在皮囊，希望也在内心...

Surprise

        Nothing could be compared to the surprise and changes that Echo brought to my life. 

        I like biology and did quite amount of anatomy before going to college. Strangely, I could calmly handle live specimens in labs but was afraid of any animals in wild. A frog or a mouse crossing street would make me scream, a cat or a dog approaching me would make me jump. I hate to be licked -- my brother knew it well and used this as his weapon when he was little -- so owning a pet was absolutely not an option for me. 

        The rest of my family members all love dogs. Dog is part of my husband's American dream but he didn't push it because of my hesitance. My son is a natural dog lover, not only because he was born in a dog year, but also magically has had a special bonding to all kinds of dogs since he was a baby. My daughter was the one who kept on begging for a dog and actually did a great amount of research. Once a while she showed me some cute dog pictures, taught me some dog knowledge, and told me the traits of different breeds. She asked me what's my concern and promised that she would look for a dog breed that cover all of my concerns and meet our family's criteria -- middle-sized, active and healthy, capable to hike, low odor, does not shed, drool or bite too much... 

        Alivia is fond of all the dogs in our friends family, especially those who went out hiking with us, Alisha and Tobi. She had so much patience to take care of the dogs during the trip. She was excited whenever receiving dog pictures or videos from my brother, sister and other friends. From her eyes, I saw not only eagerness of companion, but tenderness and love grown in a young heart. Finally I compromised with only one condition -- don't let the dog get too close to me.  

       Based on her studies, Alivia decided to adopt a border collie, a cute looking, energetic and smart middle-sized dog. Border collie is not a very popular breed so it took several months to finally find one near us. The day to meet her was a big day. Without hesitating, we decided to bring her home as this adorable little one immediately melted our heart. Ironically that day was my birthday. Giving a dog to a person who rejects dogs as her birthday gift, what a surprise! We decided to call her Echo. The name was from a website that suggests dog names, but my daughter said, "maybe this is a sign, maybe this is a start full of hope, maybe this is a secret echo coming from bottom of your heart, eventually maybe you would be the person who loves Echo the most." 

       Echo didn't make Alivia disappointed. A month later, Echo became the only animal ever licked my hands; two months later, I could let her sit on my lap and hug her; three months later we could take a walk together -- yes, only two of us... Pet her, feed her, shower her, comb her, train her, hug her, kiss her, even talk to her... In return, she follows me, listens to me, trusts me, and comforts me. I could almost say I turned to be her favorite person! Her watery and innocent big eyes, her half floppy half erected ears, her lithe and agile movement, her head tilting, tail wagging, belly-up pleasing, her simple but genuine love totally wins my heart. 

        For my whole life, I never thought about owning a dog, not talking about being transformed by a dog. While this surprisingly happened. This little playful spirit opens a different world to me, and gave me a special feeling of joy. She can easily dissolve my frown, lift the corner of my mouth, and ease my mind. She injects joys and vitality in our daily life, she adds so much fun in our outdoor trips, she stirs my parental instinct again and made me completely accept her. For so many time when I look at her, I cannot believe the magic changes she has brought to me and feel so lucky to have her. Pandemic is a human tragedy, which isolated people and may permanently change the world. My world has been changed too, by this surprising and special gift. 

        "To love gives life purpose; to be loved gives life meaning". Now I have one more family member to love and to be loved! Echo is truly an echo from bottom of my heart. 

Spring Messengers

        Magnolia is a type of popular plant in California. On one of the nearby streets in our  neighborhood, almost every house has a magnolia tree in its front yard. In early spring, they are the first blooming trees carrying either white or purple flowers. Every time when I saw them, it would wake up my sensation to spring and bring my mind back to my elementary school years.

        In the early memory of my childhood, the blooming of winter jasmine is the first whisper of spring.  Spring sneaks in in a very quiet way in Shanghai. When most of trees still have bare brunches without any budding sign, the slight poke from those small light yellow flowers can always bring me a warm and intoxicating smile. I thought spring always sends messages in this way till I was back to Beijing.

        In Beijing, the north part of the China, the spring announcement is louder and bolder, like the personality of people living there. Magnolia was one of the first blooming in our campus. Like the size of its flowers, the announcement is confident and proud in a full and clear tone. Before moving to California, I used to think magnolia is a super precious species as I only knew three magnolia trees in my childhood, two middle-sized white magnolia in front of the Main Building in Tsinghua, and a huge and old purple magnolia in Summer Palace. I thought they were specially precious because we visited them almost every year in elementary school during our spring field trips. The field trip was supposed to be exciting, however as it was associated with essay about the trees every time, the beautiful petals and elegant fragrance almost turned to be a nightmare in those years.

        Luckily, this “tradition” stopped when I entered middle school. Life has been going fast since then. After years when magnolia had finally been buried under dusty memories, one day I suddenly started missing those lonely and pure white flowers. I was glad to see them after moving to current neighborhood. I was glad to know it’s not hard to grow in California. I’m glad I could reconnect with it and now I know it is truly precious, in a different way.

Who Sculped in Time?

          Everyone’s time is unique. It is consisted of a string of memories. Within these beads of memory, some are specially shining, some were sculped in a special shape, some changed the track of time.  I don’t think I am old enough to name the most momentous bead in my life, but when I brush through the string of memories, I do have a collection of memorable moments, one of which was the day in my fourth grade year.

        I was quite timid when I was a child. I would hide behind my parents’ or grandparents’ legs and grabbed their clothes tightly when a “stranger” said hi to me. Initiating a greeting to neighbors was a hard task, even answering a simple question from close relatives required certain courage. One of my toddler stories was that one day when we visited Summer Palace, several tourists from UK passed by and thought I was cute; they waved hi to me while I suddenly lay down on the bench, covered my eyes with little palms, and waved back with my feet.

        My timidity did not go anywhere better when I started school. In the first three years, we were little chicks under cover. Since my academic grade was on the top, I was designated as the “class president”, but that empty title didn’t ask me to do anything special. Then it turned to be fourth grade…

        In the first day of fourth grade, we were told that we had entered into the “senior phase” of the elementary school and needed to start taking care of many things that were previously covered by teachers or other adults. Each class was assigned a new team of teachers. My new homeroom teacher, Ms. Wu, was a middle-aged female who seldom smiled. I heard she’s one of the best teachers in our school, in our district, even in our city, but also very very strict. I was not afraid of her, as her class was interesting and the homework was not too hard for me, until that Class Meeting.

        In the past, our weekly Class Meeting was always charged by the homeroom teachers, who would summarize the week, pass along or reiterate principle’s notes, instruct us to wipe the classroom windows, sweep the yard; twice a year, we would have field trips; when there’s spare time, we were given extra homework to do during that period. I never thought “class president” would need to prepare anything for the Class Meetings and was totally freaked out when Mrs. Wu called me out to lead the class that day.

        I don’t remember how I walked to the front of the classroom. The only thing I remembered was standing there with flushed face and blank brain; blood was frozen, time was frozen, each minuet was a torture and as long as a century. Finally, she let me go back to my seat and announced that we needed an election for a truly qualified “class president”. Each candidate should submit a proposal of the class activities for the semester and give a speech in a few days, and the whole class would vote right after that. A few boys raised their hands excitedly to join the campaign, then the teacher turned to me and said, “you could join as well if you want to”.

        Did I want to be the president? I don’t know. But I knew I had no choice but rise from where I fell. For the rest of the few days, I spent all my time brainstorming ideas and revising my proposal. It was my faith that I must wash away my shame. By the due day, I was the only person who submitted a proposal.

        Based on the rule, I was the winner. No matter the teacher liked or not, at least she knew I was serious and not easy to give up.

        For the rest of the semester, I had to follow my own proposal to implement the plan. Talking in front of 40 students was quite frightened no matter how much you prepared. I made so many silly and embarrassing mistakes. However, with such a traumatized start, nothing could be worse. My classmates may laugh at me, but Mrs. Wu never let me down since then. She always stood at the back of the room and looked at me with encouragement, sometimes with a subtle nod or shake, sometimes with a comment or correction, sometimes just a slight smile. One day I suddenly noticed that organizing and leading a class activity was quite manageable. It’s not a nightmare to me anymore.  

        She still criticized me, I still felt nervous whenever going to see her individually. I even hated her a little bit because she gave me hard time, but at the same time I liked her and admired her.  She didn’t only help me overcome the fear for public speech, but also the other fear — writing.

        I loved reading since I was young, but it didn’t turn me into a natural writer. My grandpa encouraged me to write letters to him since I was seven and my mom gave me writing assignments during the school breaks. They told me to write just as I talk, but how could these be same? Writing had always been a big burden to me. Surprisingly since Mrs. Wu took over, writing gradually turned to be my favorite part of the class. It’s a pity that I forgot what exact approaches or tricks she used to inspire us for writing, but several tips have been retained:
          1. Be real, be personal
          2. Rich vocabulary is secondary  
          3. A tiny raindrop could mirror the big world
          4. Just start writing

        Two years later, I won a National Writing prize for youth. Four years later, I joined a Young Writers Program to learn more about literature writing. Ten years later, my articles were published on College Magazines and Internet. Now I dare to use my limited English to write about my life. All these started from my fourth grade.

        Since then I could speak naturally not only in front of my class, but the whole school. I attended debates and speech contests, and even chose teaching as my career.

        The teacher who only taught me one semester and gave me the most shameful experience changed my life. “Better than a thousand days of diligent study is one day with a great teacher.”

        Last week my kids were talking about their favorite teachers too. Aidan said it’s her English teacher in 9th grade.
         “You mean the most strict teacher in your high school? Did you get the only B in your whole school years in her class? ”
         “Yep, Yep! It’s not about the grade. I learned the way to appreciate literature much more and the class shaped my world view. She has a high standard and high expectation on us, which is precious in US schools in these days. I got an A from her in the second semester though.”

        Alivia’s favorite teacher is the one she has now in her Social Studies. She kept on talking about him — how he adjusts the curriculum to incorporate real life cases, how he allows students to debate during class on any social topics, how he’s willing to pause the textbook lessons and spend time to answer students’ questions regarding government, policies, and current events. Inspired by him, Alivia attended school district board meetings, listened to the State of the Union Address, decided to join debate team and take AP History in high school, discussed women’s rights with the other classmate, and the two girls even talked about opening a law firm together in the future. It’s still too early to say she found her direction for the future, but I saw the teacher opening a door and planting a seed in his student’s heart.  

        Someone is not only a teacher, but a awakener, a ray of light, a sculptor of life!

Childhood

         One of the challenges that raising children in a foreign country is that it’s hard to share our childhood books or cartoons to our children. Of course, there would still be generation gap under the same culture, however, cultural difference above it definitely made the inheritance even harder.

        When I recall the stories I liked in my childhood, I would think of Zheng Yuanjie, Bingxin, Journey to the West , A Deer with Nine Colors, YiXiu the smart little monk, The Flower Angel, The Little Mole…

        I tried to introduce these stories to my children, however, it’s hard to impress them as these characters are not commonly known among their friends. What they were talking about were Dr. Seuss, Thomas, Five Little Monkeys, Dora, and Nemo; even Simba was a little out before the film was remade in 2019.

        There were a few exceptions, which are Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Tom and Jerry. It seems numerous stories have been developed on these silly characters over years and there would never be an end. I was so happy to watch the old episodes and new ones together with my kids, and burst out laughing in the same way, which brought me back to those precious Sunday evenings when I was young. At that time, there were no VHS, VCR or DVD; one episode a week was all we had. No matter how many years passed, children’s joy is universal.

        I was glad to go through another childhood with my children in a different culture. Together, we discovered children’s books, learned children’s song, played children’s game. These were all new to me. Sometimes they learned in school or from their friends, then I leaned from them. What a fun experience! Some of the books I remembered reading with my son include: The Cat in the Hat, Five Little Monkeys Jumping in the Bed, The One and only Ivan, Wonder, The Giver Quartet, Masterminds, Where the Red Fern Grows…  Gradually they also extracted a little bit of their parents’ memories, such as The Lion King, ET, Sun Wukong, Mulan… I hope multi-culture will eventually bring them a richer life experience, like what I received, instead of any confusion that makes them lost.

We are Siblings

    I was not with my little brother when he was born. My earliest memory about him starts from his round and soft face, red lips, big eyes with long eye lashes. He was about two years old, wearing a bright red jacket that I had worn before and a fuzzy blue Bennie. He was so adorable and no one could confidently tell he’s a boy or a girl. When people asked, he would shock them by answering “I’m a boy” in his super scratchy voice. I don’t know if it was embarrassing to him, but it’s fun to see other people’s reaction after hearing that. He had a very good sense of pitch, tone and beat since he was a child. However, no one believed he would be able to sing a song because of his scratchy voice that accompanied him till his teenager years. Surprisingly and fortunately, his voice turned to be deep and clean after the changing period. He fell in love with singing and is an attractive singer, even a “mic hog”, in karaoke.

    In my childhood memory, my little brother was the most adorable boy in the world. I was willing to give him all of the cute names I knew, including those I learned from cartoons. Cutie pie, sweet dough ball,  Little Mole, Denver the last dinosaur, Yixiu the smart little monk… I liked to rub his face and played our secret games with him under the quilt.

    At the same time, he was also super naughty and sometimes annoying like typical boys. He had tons of energy everyday to plays tricks. Luckily he liked sports too which consumed most of his energy and saved me. His early years were devoted to soccer and often played it till it was completely dark. Later when my mom bought Ping-Pong and badminton sets for us, my brother quickly mastered the skills as well and turned to be a competitive Ping-Pong players in his school. He was selected to join the track and field team when he’s in elementary school. The most impressive thing I remembered when he was about 9 or 10 years old was that one day he came back home to tell me he decided to quit 100/200m but train for 3000m. I was surprised because he liked sprint. But he said too many boys wanted to do sprint as it’s fun; although he’s one of the top runners, it’s hard for him to secure champion every time. He found he had a much higher chance to win in 3000m, the longest distance running in his age group, as much fewer people were willing to devote into such a hard endurance training. That was the first time I admired my brother.

    My younger brother is super dedicated to anything that he is passionate about. He was a varsity basketball player in his high school and college. The extra training hours he put in was tremendous. He fell in love with guitar when he was in high school and spent hours after hours to practice chords, even on toilet seat. He likes movies. After watching the same movie numerous times, he could recite the actor’s lines precisely and taught himself Cantonese through it. He likes video games as many other boys and without doubt he was one of the best players in the games he played. I prayed he would find the same passion on his school work one day so he would be the top student in academic. Unfortunately this never happened.

    I have to say he is a very different person as I am even though we are from the same parents. The way he opens this world is from an aspect that I didn’t understand and could not accept at that time. Only till mid-age, I could see his colorful life more clearly and start appreciating such a different lift style. Of course, it’s also partially because he established his career and I saw him turn to be a responsible husband and father. I regret I gave him too many lessons when he was young because he’s not a typical model student as I was. I regret I didn’t spend time to communicate with him in his way and see a different world from his eyes. I could have learned more from him.

     He probably has different options. Once he told me that he suddenly realized how much influence I was on him when he chatted with his friends. Although both of us denied it for many years, actually what we are alike is much more than what we are apart. After all, we are siblings.

Dear Grandparents

    I was born in a Tiger year. My grandparents said it was a good year. I am their first grandchild and surly caught much attention, especially from my grandpa. Although he tried to treat all of his grandchildren fairly and actually did very well, I always know I am his favorite one. We had similar personalities, interests and values. We spent years together, visited each other, wrote many many letters to each other till he was too old to write. The bond between my grandparents and I is extraordinary. They are my first lighthouse, and forever anchor of life. 

    When I was one and half years old, a deadly earthquake occurred in Tangshan, a city about 100 miles away from Beijing. To escape from the aftershock, my parents sent me to Shanghai to stay with my grandparents temporarily. Well, that was the original plan. Later the temporary stay turned to be much longer, eventually more than four years till I had to go back Beijing for school. From what I heard, part of the reasons was I refused to go to daycare, which was what I had to do in Beijing since both my parents were working, and the other reason was my grandpa could not bear to let me leave him. 

   Grandpa had not been retired at that time. Most time of the week, my cousin and I stayed with Grandma. My grandma is a very gentle and elegant lady, never spoke loudly. She was raised in a well family, with maids and a big house. Unfortunately everything changed after wars. She had to learn to take care of all the chores and raise children by herself. My cousin is several months younger than me. Grandma was our first teacher, teaching us reading, writing, calligraphy, math, Tang poetry, as she did to my father, uncle and aunt. She must be an excellent teacher, as my father, uncle and aunt all went to top schools and have admiring calligraphy. My grandma loves Tang Song poetry and Yue opera. For many years after I returned to Beijing, I always recite one poem or ci for her at the end of my letter. Those poems soften my heart and connect her to me every time when I read them. 

    Sunday was absolutely the highlight of each week. Living in a busy and crowded city like Shanghai, kids had rare opportunities to play outdoors. In sunny Sundays, Grandpa would bring us to parks to meet his brothers and friends. Sometimes we got a treat, sometimes a book; I read every street name and shop sign along the way, but my favorite part was to climb in the playground. Other people said I was "too bold to be a girl", but Grandpa told me girls had no difference to boys; girls could be able to do everything boys could, like Mulan. He never said something like "dream big, fly high", but I knew he would support all my adventurous decisions and encourage me all the way along, because he was also an adventurer. In the year when he was 15, he traveled to Qiantang River by himself to shoot pictures of the famous high tide. And in the year when I was 15, he experienced some adventurous moments together with me and witnessed my growth. 

    When I was 15, my whole family was in America except me, so my grandpa came to Beijing to live with me for a year. That was my last year before high school. School work was heavy and I was sometimes stressed out, hiking at weekend is something soothed me. Simply packed with bottle water and some bread, my 73-year-old grandpa and I were heading to places we both liked. We stopped at creeks to refill water, bought watermelons for lunch, explored unpaved trails to avoid the crowd and seek other creatures. We didn't have GPS, maps, or even trail signs back then, but never got lost in mountains until one day. I could not tell if Grandpa was panic because he's always calm in my mind, but I knew I was not because I had him by my side. It was such a long day that we encountered many up and downs, critical turning decisions, even discussed overnight hike. Luckily, around 9 o'clock in the evening, after another hill, we saw the village and bus stops from halfway of the mountain. Although there was still over an hour to finish, we were so happy to find our way...

    Grandpa and I always have something to chat, from history and culture to science and philosophy. I used to lie down on the floor by his bed and chat with him till falling in sleep. Grandpa started learning English when he retired. He read newspaper and novels in English, listened to radio stations in English, taught me grammar and vocabulary, and even started writing letters in English with me. I have a box in my drawer keeping all of his letters to me from my elementary school to graduate school. My last letter to him was placed by his head at his funeral. I believe he has carried it with him in heaven. Nowadays although I don't physically write letters to him anymore, I often wrote one in my mind and received his messages back. 

    I will forever remember the old time when my grandma was preparing my favorite dishes, I was the only one being allowed to sit besides my grandpa when he had a small glass of wine before dinner, and took a lick of the wine from the tip of his chopsticks. I can smell the delicious dinner, which is the smell of yearning. 

Chinese New Year

        Believe or not, I didn’t like festivals when I was a child. Wired, right? Chinese New Year was the favorite festival for almost all kids, including my younger brother. Delicious food, new clothes, TV shows, game time, no homework, no disciplines… My brother’s favorite was definitely firecrackers, which he could play day and night for weeks.

        But I would rather find a quiet corner to hide during holidays. Visiting relatives was a big burden to me. The only comforting place was one of my cousins’ house because she is as “antisocial” as me. When we met, after the basic curtesy to greet each elder, we quickly locked ourselves in a room to talk about the books we read, the pictures she painted, and the music we appreciated. She even likes Laosheng in Beijing Opera and Kun Opera. Time went fast in our small world.

        I didn’t feel at ease to be antisocial and actually made efforts to be more cheered up in Chinese New Year’s celebration. I helped my mom clean house, wash bedsheets, cook festival meals; I played firework with my brother and skated on icy lake with my friends; I did enjoy the time to make dumplings and watch TV with all the family members, but all of these were not truly satisfying celebration in my mind. I remember in one of the New Year’s Eve, I felt I should do something for myself, something to celebrate the festival in my way. Luckily, a flower shop was still open in the late afternoon of that New Year’s Eve, so I brought back a bunch of red carnations to decorate the house. Carnation is not typical New Year flower that florists would recommend, but I like them as it is meant to signify love, fascination, healing, and strength, and has a long flowering period. That’s probably the most memorable Chinese Year’s Eve in my teenager years.

        Chinese New Year turned to be more meaningful only after I went to Canada. Just like home, it is something that is more clearly defined only when a distance exists between us. I had some cool and memorable celebrations during the years I was studying abroad along. I started skiing and waved to New Years on the top of snow mountains. I biked to downtown to see festival lights in a -40F night; my eye lashes turned to be mini icicles. I hugged with my best friend to welcome the new millennium; my tears welled up at the moment when the glorious fireworks illuminated the sky above us in the Inner Harbor. I traveled many places to chase dreams, but nothing could replace the gathering with Chinese friends at Chinese New Year to create an extended family in a foreign land. When Chinese food is not a default any more, we learned to cook one after another traditional Chinese dishes to create a taste of home.

        Finally family was settled when kids were born. Home suddenly has a new layer of meaning. Suddenly you are not the one who has to follow all the family traditions reluctantly, but the one who creates traditions for the family. You don’t have the option to treat the New Year’s day just as another exciting day, but are counted to open the window for your kids to understand Chinese culture and history. Many things I didn’t care before turned to be happy obligations. We dress up together with Tangzhuang Qipao, hang red lanterns, post red “Fu”, cook New Year dishes with special names and blessing meanings. Over the years, my daughter learned to make dumplings, sweet rice bowl (八宝饭), sweet dumplings (汤圆), even 酒酿。They learned to speak and read Chinese, laugh at Chinese comedy shows, and be able to appreciate Chinese cultures. I can see one day they will carry over the celebration and carry on this memorable festival in their life.

Name, The Beginning of One's Life

    When does life begin as a human being? Begins at fertilization with the embryo's conception? At zygote implants in the uterus? At neuromaturation, heartbeat formation... or at the birth of a newborn? There are many arguments and behind these arguments are scientific, medical, and mortal discussions. I am not going to write an essay on ethics, but just have a thought about the beginning of another type of life, a human being's social life. I think it begins at the time when he/she is given a name.

    The beginning of my life story started with my name.

    How did my parents pick up my name? I never heard the story about the naming process, but I'm sure, as all the parents, they spent much time to find a good name with a special meaning that carried their love and all the best wishes to me. And, like many parents in China, they also asked for suggestions from elders in the family. I knew that I had a name when I was born, and by the time to file paperwork, it was changed to the current version which was given by my grandpa.

    I like both versions. They are not typical feminine names but bring up a bigger view to life and the world. The first name "Di" means "inspiration", and the pronunciation of the last and first name together, "Wu Di" implies "no enemy" "no opponent" or "undefeatable". The latter one "Wei" means "luxuriant” “azure” or “celestial”, and the pronunciation of the last and first name together, "Wu Wei", implies "brave" or "fearless". For a long time, I thought these two names are carrying very similar moral messages --- a person without an enemy is surely fearless, and a person's courage is derived from his/her undefeatable mind. However, I had a different understanding when I was in my 30s.

    One night about 10 years ago, I met my dear grandpa in a dream, who helped me to see the fundamental difference. No enemy or opponent is a hard conclusion to make as it involves endless comparison. However, fearlessness is an universal attitude towards all challenges, which is something we can control. Fearlessness has nothing to do with success or failure, but only about a brave heart. 10 years ago, I was so delighted to have this finding and wrote it down in Chinese. No matter if it matched Grandpa's original thought, I believe it was a calling he sent to me at that time. My dear grandpa was the first lighthouse in my life and the forever anchor in my heart...

PS. My first name "Di" turns out to be used in my kids' Chinese names. This is also a legacy.

2022, A New Start

This is not the way I expected to start 2022. No… not at all…

We just spent 10 fabulous days, a white and shining Christmas in Vail and Denver. Every day was full of joy and adventure brought by nature and human creation. It was another “dream come true”. After almost two years of lock down, we finally decided to take a flight. With all the thoughtful planning and cautious movement, we kept in good shapes all the way until the last day when Aidan started a sore throat, and that was the beginning of the two-week episode…

I didn’t expect I had to curled up in bed and fell into lethargy on the first day of the new year; I didn’t expect we had to repeatedly run to the COVID tests in two weeks trying to convince ourselves we were truly infected or negative; I didn’t expect four of us had to be isolated in four bedrooms using Facetime to get together at dinner time, and wait till the 12th day to finally hug and kiss each other; I didn’t expect we may bring potential risk to the friends around us… This is not an exciting way to celebrate the new year.

An unexpected and sudden drop from an overjoyed peak is what I have been always afraid of and tried to avoid it in many ways. However, the reality is, no matter how much has been prepared, sometimes, something just happen, inevitably, and you have to face it and deal with it.

The other half the reality we can choose to see is… it is grateful that, after only 36 hours of slumber, my body shaker off all the soreness and woke up as fresh; it is grateful that, although developed certain symptoms one after the other, all four of us have been recovered quickly and back to school/work as normal; it is grateful that what hit our us was omicron, a so called “non-GMO, green and natural vaccine booster”, and with this unplanned booster, we don’t encounter that much of anxieties many other school families are experiencing when the case number is rocketing up in campus right now…

Life is going on. The New Year’s Day could be a day after New Year’s Eve, but could also be a new start we set up for ourselves. I am grateful that, through this unexpected and sudden drop, I am learning to face the surprise instead of being panic about it, communicate to dissolve the awkwardness but not escape from it.

All the surprises, pleasant or frightened, could be the gift from heaven…

Right, one more surprise… which is this STORYWORTH, from my dear sister BFF. She’s afraid it might bring me too much burden. I won’t think so. It may be a pressure, will be a commitment, and is definitely a challenge… but I am glad someone throw it to me and I’m going to take it as my new year resolution!

2022, my Tiger year, this is a good way to start it!!

PS. my daffodil, also a gift from my dear sister BFF, starts blooming!