On living, aging, the understandings from life that these two individuals gained, translated…
Sorrow’s what’s helped me, to find that clarified bottom line, that strength, to keep me from, being swallowed whole by the darkness. I’d slowly, torn off that scab which I thought had healed long ago, admitting how I was weak and fearful; sorrows now become, this lamplight, that shed light onto that darkened corner of my memories………
ㄇa photo of Ping Lu…from online…
Ping Lu: Last month, I’d held a book promotion for my new book, “The Heart Mandala”, that was the very first of its kind, I’d felt uncertain. I’d thought, that I may encounter those hard-to-predict members in the audience, and, I can still recall the pains of my own experiences as I’d started drafting the book, it’s still, bleeding, and, if I’d bumped into a hard-to-answer question, how will I, explain it using my own words? Would it be necessary, that I would, need to, carve my own heart out for show? Chiang-Sen, you were sitting right next to me, helping to, steady me. I’m sure, that you could understand, that whether or not it’s spoken by the writer, whether it’d been, written or not, to, finally having to, pen it all down, just like how you’d written that final passage in my book, “This sort of an exit, seemed to, have been, traded with one’s entire life. Closure, something as simple as, an apology, nothing more……had it not be through the processes of penning it all down, how would regular people know, the hardships in the processes and the not limiting to ‘not being given any choices’?”
Other than you, nobody can explain this ‘not being given any choices’ better.
You surely understood, how difficult it must’ve been, for me, to tell my tales. Francis Bacon once stated, “Being exposed is shameful; whether it be our bodies, or our hearts.” And still, for the sake of “not being shameful”, I’d never made the choice, of living this mistaken life of mine.
On some levels, everybody believed, that “being shameful” (relating to how our former generations defined it, making the entire world the accomplices), could it be what’s, keeping my family members tied up and bound too? Being inconsistent, other than making it more difficult for the people who are personally involved, the hypocrisy in it, was that “crack” I couldn’t assign meaning to when I was only a child, I suppose!
On the issue of decency, this sort of an introspection, brings more meaning than you’ll ever be able to imagine. In the process of writing “An Exposed Heart”, with my words, I’d managed to, rouse up that slightest detail that’s been ignored, and, weaved up that hard-to-comprehend whole picture of my own family of origin. On the thought of it being like putting together the pieces of puzzles, those broken pieces, placed, next to each other, it’d given me, an alternative angle, to understand it, how back then, everybody had their separate hardships.
For me, more important was, repentance. Some of the things I should’ve said I didn’t (after all, a child who was, mixed in with the secret, how much would she know?), at moments, I’d used that too-high standard my birth mother carried for me, to ask of my adoptive mother. But after I’d understood my pasts, I’d looked back, again, and again, what hurt me the most was, the mother who’d, raised me…tolerated me all these years, had felt, more than I ever had. After I’d gotten a closer look at my younger years, I’d looked back again, and again, and what hurt the most right then was, the mother who’d, raised me…the one who’d, tolerated me all these years………was even MORE troubled than I was.
here’s a photo of Chiang-Sen Kuo, from online…
Chiang-Sen, what were your hesitations in writing “Why not get serious, feeling awful?”
Chiang-Sen Kuo: There was an epilogue to “Why not get serious, feeling awful”, “I’d Felt, All the Sorrows”, which had been, the state of mind I’d, carried, in writing my book. Back then, my life was, falling apart, since my mother died, I’d kept living in fear, avoiding that huge shadow, that came, hovering over me, I knew, that this time, I have, nowhere to run. I’m not afraid of getting laughed at, my only doubt at that very moment was, can I, get past this part of my life, and tell everything I’d experienced to the world?
I am only one person, there are, too many things I have to handle, and the problems that’s pressing me, contained too many entanglements, enmeshments from the past, how will I, keep this, broken home intact? As I drafted, things are, worsening. For multiple years, I was blocked outside the door, by my own father’s partner, in the end, I’d found out, that she’d been, drugging him, and my father started falling into a state of comatose, not eating or drinking………it was shocking enough, to rescue my own father out of the hands of that woman, as for how I should, place my own father who’d started showing signs of dementia, it’d stressed me, who’d needed to drive to Hualien every single week…followed by my older brother’s death due to cancer, my lover cheated on me, and left me…………all of these things happened, in this short period of time, I’d lost a total of fifteen pounds, back then, I really thought, that I will die.
This home, in other people’s views, was a perfect, happy home, how did it, get to, where it currently is? Being the youngest son, I have only TWO options, one, let go, and stop caring, the other, hold on to it, with my own dear life.
I only have this home my whole life, I don’t have another home, waiting for me somewhere else, or to be, used as my excuse. So, I’d, taken on this already broken, my one and only, home, and so, other than just, taking everything in, I have, NO other options. Back then, other than feeling the strains of my psyche, my body, I was also, suffering from my heartbreak, the sorrows I’d felt inside, became like that blackhole that could, paralyze me, at any given time. I’d finally understood, if I am to keep going, other than facing my own sorrows truthfully, there are, no other, options for me. More importantly, there’s, nobody, I can file charges against, I couldn’t expect my family will be whole again either, the only kind of closure I will be able to receive, was, with my self.
Ping Lu, aren’t we all, seeking that needed closure, with our selves?
As I’d started writing, I’d not planned the topic of family, I just wanted to find my self back again, in the end, I’d found, that only through reexamining the interactions of my family and I, can I understand, what “made” me. After you’d finished writing “The Heart Mandala”, did you also, gain that sense of closure, that’s the importance of this journey of self-discovery beats anything else. In my childhood memories, I couldn’t figure out what was real and what wasn’t, the attitudes from the adults confused me so; and now, the broken pieces finally got, put back together, for me, that was, that light from high up above me!
Writing, in my mind, also, circled around this, in order to understand………how did I, become who I am right now. Like my book, “Heart Mandala”
Ping Lu: Chiang-Sen, you’re absolutely right, for me, I’d always wanted to figure out, what “made” me. You may be able to imagine, that for someone who’d walked in the fog her whole life, time and time again, I’d drawn with my hand, or built with sand, reworking that image inside (Mandala). There was the connecting too, the bits and pieces, showed how lightless and how foolish and awful my past was, it’d also, linked to that core lesson of my own life.
For me, writing is closely, linked to this subject. For instance, in the piece with the protagonist being a product of A.I., “The Button’s Hand”, “the Histories of Artificial Intelligence” being the other. Stories after stories, the android wanted to, understand where it comes from, and the question that it’d posed time and time again was: knowing where “I” come from.
Finding the clues to one’s own life, to solve a mystery, that no one else knows how to solve, it’s this, set theme of my novel! Not only in writing, but all other aspects of my life, it’d, imprinted itself. For instance, I’d loved “Show Me How to Live” by Audioslave, for no reasons at all, I’d started crying softly as I’d heard the song. The lead’s voice was raspy, perhaps, it’d, reflected how I’d felt back then, the lyrics was said, to have been influenced by the movie, “Blade Runner”. The chorus was:
Nail in My Hand
From My Creator
You Gave Me Life
Now Show Me How to Live
Back when I’d heard that, I’d felt, this sense of, awakening, that came, out of nowhere………
There’s the other line” Is this a cure or is this a disease?”, I’d smiled bitterly (how do I ask? Who, do I ask?), were the words, a symptom, or, a cure?
Until I come to write “Heart Mandala”, I’d found the answers of the questions of my beginnings, that, was when I’d realized, the true meaning of writing to me: through the delicate and depth of my writing, stripping away all other impurities, I saw that in my parents’ generation………how they weren’t able to take control of their own lives. In the process, I’d started, emphasizing, to think from various angles, to explain, to understand, for me, this, was the only way, of finding closure with myself!
As for words, they’re not necessarily symptoms, or the cure, I believe, that it’s, a way, you can see your own faults. As I wrote, my thoughts started to change, and my life altered too, that, was what being the author of “Heart Mandala” for me.
Chiang-Sen, what was the meaning behind your book, “Why Not Get Serious, Feeling Awful”,”?
Chiang-Sen Kuo: the biggest meaning, perhaps, it’s how I’d finally, faced up to life, and stopped living inside this schema that’s created for me to live in.
If people believed, that feeling sad was getting trapped in a sort of frenzy, then, they’re, wrong. On the contrary, sorrow had, helped me find that bottom line, the strongest force that refused to get taken by the darkness. I’d slowly, picked away that exterior which I thought had, scabbed, over the years, admitting to myself, that I was, weak, and scared; sorrow became, like that light that shone on that darkest corner of my own memories. I’d written very slowly, a thousand characters took about five hours to key, because this time, I’d wanted to, get serious with, honestly, hold that needed conversation with the self.
Having a conversation with the self, if you’d used any sort of embellishments, there’s no way, you can, fool yourself, so, you can only, stare at the core. I’m not describing how I’d felt my own sorrows, but to get deeper, into understand, what the life cycle means, to people, the sorrows attached to the cycles of life.
With my writing, to expose the truth about sorrows, I’d from time to time, hear that sound of doubt, believed, that “not offering enough hope”, even, “breaking away from the traditional values”, hope and value, were they able to be so one-sided, then, with everybody complying to these rules, is that, being fulfilled then?
After I’d finished writing this book, I’d witnessed hope, saw how I grew, and came, to understand more about my own parents, that how they were once, younger people, who had endless hope for their futures too, that’s gotten lost, in the river of time. Without this sort of empathy, how can you really truly, love, forgive, or to remember?
Just like you’d stated, writing helped us see, the “hardships of everybody else’s life”. Parents are also, roles, they’re also, live humans, but for the sake of their families, they too have, sorrows, upsets too, and, too many oppressions. Isn’t there the line of “the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference”? It’s, considered, indifferent, if someone refused to, face the truth of her/his own life, isn’t it?
I’m now, taking a leave of absence from work, returned back to Taipei, to look after my father, and I can totally relate, to how you’d, described how you were there, as your parents aged, fell ill too. I really wanted to tell you, Ping Lu, you are, so very brave. Back then, with both parents relying on you, how did you get through it?
Ping Lu: Back then, I’d felt, that it was, burdensome, but thinking back now, if I have the chance, I would, trade everything for those moments I’d shared with my own parents. If I had the chance of taking care of them again, especially with my own mother, I’d connected with her more, as a woman, I’d, felt her sorrows personally.
If, if, if, if, if, if only, I have, just one more chance.
For me, after I’d known about my past, I’d gained that extra sense of understanding. From before, I’d felt, that the mother who’d taken care of me wasn’t good enough, I couldn’t understand………what sort of trauma she had experienced in her life. Let me mention a stage play you’re probably familiar with, “August: Osage County”, in the movie, the aunt played by Margo Martindale, Matti, who’d told her niece, “You, would never know, what sort of a woman I was back then”, as Matti appeared before her niece, she was already, this bloated, elderly woman, but back then, what kind of a woman was Matti? How, did this fat and old woman, in another era of time, become, a part of a love triangle?
For the mother who’d raised me, if I’d taken off that role that’s attached to her so tightly, what sort of a woman would she be? After I’d understood the stories, I’d repeated the words, “You, wouldn’t know, what sort of a woman I was back then?”, that confession in the movie, could it be, what my adoptive mother (even my birthmother), wanted to say to me?
What shocked me more was, if I’d faced myself truthfully, in the seduction of the romantic love, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure, if I’ll turn into, another moth, rushing toward that flame. And, following that, stubbornness, weakness, greed too, being involved in all of this, would I still, worry about the damages I might, cause to others?
But in a different time and era, or, maybe, it’s just, my better luck, it’d saved me from the issues my parents had to face in their generations. Simply stated, had it been me, during that era of time, would I have, done better, than my own parents? After admitting to this, there’s, no one else, I can blame.
Chiang-Sen Kuo: Ping Lu, I’m also, a huge fan of August Osage County! The sisters in the film, fought over who should stay to take care of the parents, there were students who’d asked me after watching it, aren’t the children in the U.S. out on their own after eighteen, don’t they have a ton of nursing homes? It’s made me laugh. Thankfully, these writers had, portrayed this problem so out in the open.
As caretaker of elderly parents, not only are we dealing with bodies getting older, but we were also, coping with those entanglements of memories we’d, shared with them. I even believed, that we can’t just treat caring for our elderly parents as an obligation, it should be, something we were, willing to do on our own. With my father becoming elderly, I too, marched into midlife, entered, into the bottom half of life. For these past two years, I’d felt, that my father was, showing me the way, we’re, growing older together, heading home with each other.
After accepting the sorrows, I’d slowly, found closure on aging. I’m guessing, that some people couldn’t face up to the responsibilities of caretaking, because they have that strong fear toward death that stemmed from nowhere, or that their lives are so scheduled, that they’d lost, the means to adapt. Needing to care for the parents, whether or not it’d come, suddenly to you, it’d already been, predicted, long ago, this, was an alternative change to your life; people who are able to change, are those who are, truly free.
Ping-Lu, you know what? These couple of years, I’d become, more comfortable by the days. There’s no set way of life that’s better, the life you have before you, is a good one. Although I’d felt strained, but I’d found, that turns out, I am, still, capable of change, and I’d felt, more relaxed. Some may get anxious, losing their titles, or become too set in the ways of the definitions of successes, but one day, all of these things we’d deemed to be important will, lose their meaning. After we aged, all we have, is our selves.
I’m truly glad, that while I’m still able to change, I’m taking care of my father, and it’d, helped me understand these lessons of life; through writing, I was able to, adjust the paces of my own life. I’d sorted everything I’d learned, and gained, into a book, and gave it the title of, “I am, Going Forward, into the Distance”, because I believe, that every experience is meaningful. And now, I can finally separate these things, that are, unrelated to me. Knowing one’s fate at age fifty, that, is probably, what that means?
So, this, is all that you’d, gained, from the processes of your own life, through interactions you’d shared with everything external, and, introspecting, you’d found, that sense of comfort, living as you. No wonder a Chinese proverb has “Knowing one’s own fate at age fifty”!
Life, the Obstacle Course 