Words they don't teach you in language school.

"Cao." With a fourth tone, if you care. It's the Chinese equivalent of "fuck," in the expletive form. Depending on what it is you're cursing at, you can say things like "Wo de cao" or "Cao ni ma." (Oh, this blog isn't PG, by the way.) You can hear Taxi drivers swearing away with a creative combination of other words (which I don't need to repeat here).

Being the good Chinese language student that I am, had an opportunity to use it today, when the barber cut my ear with his dull scissors. I chose the form, "Wo de cao," the more generic expression. I figured it wouldn't be nice to curse his mom out.

Who knew ears bled so much? (Who knew hair could be cut so dang short?? Thank goodness the stuff grows back.) They bandaged me up good, wouldn't let me pay, and sent me off with a bag of snacks despite my adamant protesting. Now I have Oreos to eat.

Humorous. Kinda. For free, I can't complain too much.

(Hey, this is HNGR. It's all good.)



That's not my middle finger, by the way.

"We all struggle with forward motion.."

Art of any sort is an expression that either rusts or shines, depending on the time and heart invested. For those of us who have always dabbled in trying to paint words, play colors, or capture the fleeting, our very sensitivity to the depth we seek to express can be desensitized through neglect. Even if we've never been very good at sharing it with others, the neglect will dull our own experience of it.

After a 9:00-5:30 in an office and a bike ride home, my energy to perceive and think about the transcendent is nigh nonexistent, let alone my ability to express that which I have no strength to grasp.

To some, expression is a luxury. To others, it is a necessity for survival. I fall somewhere in between those two categories, perhaps resting most of my weight in its survival value. Maybe this is why 7th chords on a piano or some walking bass notes on a guitar will hold me over even if I don't have the luxury of digging into the dirt of my heart with words. (After all, my linguistic energy is expended on trying to understand the Tianjin accent of taxi drivers and street vendors or attempting to read store signs and restaurant menus.)

Though learning Damien Rice and Over the Rhine songs on the guitar and piano have been my reprieves, the melancholy of others never fully manages to express one's own, no matter how beautiful it sounds.

In the same way, as much as Henri Nouwen manages to find resonance in my soul, I have found that he can be the Novocain that numbs my real need for the Sp-rit's presence. Vicarious spirituality isn’t the same as the imminent presence of G-d.

It's amazing how sin and a little bit of surface spirituality manage to inoculate against the Incarnate Word. I'm afraid of not hearing the Sp-rit's voice, but I'm petrified of ever coming to a place where I don't care about not hearing Him speak. I don't ever want the daily grind to be my excuse for mediocrity. I find it shocking that callousness is so much easier than sensitivity. Perhaps that's because rolling backwards merely requires passivity, but as some latter day poets with modern harps have rocked out to, "We all struggle with forward motion… Cuz forward motion is harder than it sounds, every time I gain some ground I gotta turn myself around again.''

I'm rather low maintenance externally. Give me a mat on the floor, some food in my tummy (just not celery), and I'm gravy. I'm not that picky. But spiritually… I can't be having no shit. I need to be rollin' out the spiritual caviar and filet mignon.

If ya'll are pr-yer warriors, I certainly wouldn't mind some spiritual throwing-down on my behalf. Over here, the gloves need to come off, Satan needs to know his role, and I need to live this reality of being dead to sin, but resurrected with Chr-st, Romans 6 style. I need space and strength to know His presence again.

Word.

Sure, I like trains.

My two goals in China:

1. To not get pick-pocketed.
2. To not get hit by a car while riding a bike.

The Family on this side of the world has been wonderfully hospitable to me. I have not lacked food or a place to rest my head since I've been here, even though I don't know my way around and only knew a few people. But Jan is gone, and now so are the Bevis's. The Coons are in the States. Being stretched is good.

I've been a wanderer as of late. I haven't really stayed in one spot for more than a few days. Korea, Guangzhou, Tianjin, Jixian, Inner Mongolia, Back to Tianjin, and now I'm off to Chang Chun. It's an interesting way of life, dependent upon the hospitality and help of others, yet never still enough to sit down and take a deep breath. At least not yet... maybe when I get back from Chang Chun... maybe. Always maybe.

It's not quite there yet, but I'm going to need some down time in the near future.

The conference in Chang Chun is about psychological counseling among Chinese and dealing with the cultural barriers that prevent effective practice. It's totally my cup of tea.

Chang Chun means "Forever Spring." I hear it's beautiful (though for Chinese cities, the definition of "beauty" must be held loosely). But I have to manage to get there first... aka, get on the train, make sure I don't oversleep and miss the stop, and find my way into town. I'm much more inept than you'd think, (or perhaps just as inept as you think).

If I'm not wrong, that's where my parents went to school and met each other...

To the late Stephen Hampton

Hey dude,

I didn't know you all too well, but I just wanted to say that you were on my mind. The L-rd woke me up last night to pray for your family.

The few times that we talked, you always seemed to be thinking. I had the feeling that you were a smart cookie. And remember when we met before Highroad and tried to find Stephy K together? Then you sang for her because it was her birthday.

I do wonder sometimes why G-d brings home the ones that seem to have so much potential. I think you fell into that category. It would have been neat to see where you would have gone and what you would have done... but He saw it fit to take you home. That's a bonus for you, but a bummer for the rest of this world.

Dude, I'll miss your crazy hair and lanky self.

As Pac said, "Keep it poppin up there." I'll see you in a few years (G-d willing.)

Sincerely,
Chuck

Adjustment

I’ve never had a problem standing out in the States. When I was little, I could never fully blend in no matter how hard I tried. But when I came back to China where I looked like everyone else, I would always try to stand out. I relished the attention I got when I spoke my immaculate English in public, or when my Nikes garnered envious glances from the kids in school uniforms. In China, I was the American, and I strutted around thinking that I was better than the rest of them.

In psych, we talk about the powerful effects of environmental cues on our actions. Our surroundings act to bring back things like memories, feelings, and habits that we had forgotten about.

As I sat sweltering on a bus, cramped and surrounded by, well, lots of Chinese people, I didn’t find it surprising that those on the mainland are sometimes described by non-mainland Chinese as being “tu,” which literally means “dirt” or “soil,” and connotes a certain amount of a crudeness or baseness in their actions and manner of carrying oneself. I can see how that would come about when one’s existence and actions seem so insignificant. Sitting there, I felt like another face in the crowd. I felt de-individualized. How does one hold onto a sense of identity and continue to value people as individuals when the sheer numbers threaten to overload our ability to care? How do I view people as the Father views them, when my relatives seem to have their wisdom in telling me not to even look at those who beg on the streets? When my friends at school spend their Saturdays down in Chicago’s skid row, how am I supposed to just look the other way?

I can no longer flaunt my English or boast in my Nikes. It’s just a hunch, but I don’t think that’s the point of HNGR.

I'm in Guangzhou right now. I'll be heading up to Tianjin in two days.