Tag: Earth

If you could read my heart

In Eastern cultures, one relies on traditional matchmakers to “read” marriage prospects.

Online, we’ve got eHarmony.com or Match.com.

Over job interviews, we rely on body language, off-guard remarks and (in)consistencies to form an impression and to determine candidate’s culture-fit.

If only could you read my heart.

How are we to determine his/her reaction after the learning curve? We don’t.

But there are a few principles:

– one tends to act consistently with his or her own internal set of standard

– we subscribe to a social compact

– we seek to preserve a long-term win-win balance i.e. cheating doesn’t pay

– collaboration leads to synergy which in turn feeds the virtuous cycle

– we seek to need-fulfill from the bottom of the Maslow scale up (survival first).

I never forget the Northridge quake, when we couldn’t get to work.

Co-workers, Hispanic, Korean, American, Vietnamese, Chinese (Los Angeles office), were all “quake victims”.

Apparently, there was something bigger than ourselves (and our ethnic make-ups).

We cared for one another as fellow human beings and shared inhabitants of this fragile planet Earth.

If they could have read my heart then.

So, on this Valentine Day, may we – co-workers – assume first the role of fellow inhabitants: from the inner ring loved ones to the outer ring – the human family: black, brown and white.

Once that social compact is bought in, it is easier to work with someone, to empathize and to collaborate. Test your candidate, see what planet he/she is from. Does he/she even feel at all? Respect at all? Or just go about “doing my job” regardless. No man’s island. Especially on Valentine’s Day.

Least resistance

Organizations and people in them tend to take this path.

Status quo. Business as usual. The comfort of routine. The predictable, mechanical rhythm. Makes the world go round. Until we drop out. One person at a time. Dust comes to dust. But the morgue still sends the bills. Please pay by a certain date, or else, interests will be applied. Routine red tape again.

Beyond death, even our own, the system goes on, to claim its next subject (victim), from birth to burial, from cradle to the grave. Have you noticed that we all got wrapped in those institutional blankets when we first arrived, and the same when we exit. They may even wrap a wrist band around us for ID. Try to enjoy sunshine, because the beginning and the end, are all lighted by fluorescent lights.

Path of least resistance. Fight not against the system. Especially Health care.

When you need its services, you are not in a bargaining position. We saw the shake up of the banking system over the last few years. Those shiny lobbies and marble floors, silk ties and slick suits. They jut paid the fine, and moved on . Now, it’s business as usual.

Shake not the system. Follow the path of least resistance. Start here, end there.

We have always done it this way. Get back to the bottom of the totem pole.

Shake not the pole.  We just pay lip services like “the more the merrier”, but the reality is Earth’s 7 billion are not welcome. We are not resource-rich enough to welcome all (you would think with the vast expanse we call the United States, people would do away with Up Stairs Down Stairs, as in crowded Britain. Yet, still “no room in the inn”, and the map got divided into Red States and Blue States. Geography of the mind, more than of the map.) Tighten the border and the security. Status quo reigns. Until death claims one at a time. Just read the NYT‘s obituary page. You’ll see. When faced with the fork along the way, take the road less travel, not the path of least resistance.

Fit for Future

Some live behind their times. Others ahead of them.

Tesla was definitely of the latter.

Wireless was his thing. Lincoln was another forward-thinker, enabler and en-actor  of abolition.

Our next hero is poised to deliver us from oil dependency.

That day will come, as surely as the sun rises in the East and set in the West.

The Earth will heal itself and the penguins will have kept their playground.

Just zoom out from history and take a look.

Unintended consequences happened. Columbus got lost on his way to India.

Mr Watson, come here (first phone call).

Last Saturday, at BALQON, we heard from the owner himself how he had made history: EV tow-trucks.

It could be done. And being done (freeing up the National transport fleet from oil dependency, at least 75%).

To prepare for the future, one sacrifices the present.

Think of SEAL or SAT  training etc…

One goal, one mind.

Fit for the future.

Nobody can beat the man whose mind was made up.

This is how he/she envisions the future.

And work backward from there.

What missing ingredients? What help to be solicited? Where would the resources be to make it happen?

Essentially, change agents are artists themselves: creating something out of nothing, ex-nihilo.

One main reason some of us don’t “fit in”, is because we are supposed to fit for other times.

We and they just don’t realize it.

When it’s time to go (die), these people are glad to depart, because their playground isn’t primarily Earth-bound.

Just passing through.

Meanwhile, we are beneficiaries of others’ invention, reformation and creation (a kid in China today enjoys playing Cityville on his/her I-pad, unaware of how many versions of fast computing prototypes the company went through to get there).

He or she simply builds on this baseline.

The rise of the rest.

It will never be enough. Never completely satisfied. This triggers a new wave of progress.

Fear of the Boogie Man or Dracula, for instance will be replaced by fear of the alien, life from outer space etc… From children’s fantasy to futuristic breakthrough. We will leave the past behind, the seen for the unseen. Be fit for the future.

Imponderables

Dead Valley is known to be the hottest place on Earth.

Yet millions have traveled pass there on their way to Las Vegas.

Venture Capitalists are also well versed in what’s so called “valley of death” i.e. when a start-up moved pass its honey-moon stage, and simply cannot sustain the burnt rate.

Yet people keep trying.

Then, aside from “death” rate, we got divorce rate.

Yet people keep falling in love, and getting married.

Hint: more shopping and spending for a family of two and more.

In America, there is no shortage of imponderables.

I am starting to read Paterno bio. I could barely get through the first few pages.

Something quite imponderable there (despite the lucid prose).

After all, what happened in America, stayed in America.

Sex shops, butcher shops.

Churches and strip clubs, sometimes near each other.

Schools and parks (for homeless people) near fast-food and donuts joints.

Dental office next to candy shop.

And 24-hr gym (all you can lift)  near Hometown Buffet (all you can eat). Go figure.

America spends a large chunk of change on incarceration, pornography (hard and soft e.g. NYT best-seller list, top 3 are taken by the same author who caters to women taste for escapism), guns and amos (especially amos, modeled after HP cartridge business model), medical marijuana and spirits (that get you on a downward spiral).

My name is Thang. And I am not an alcoholic. So help me God.

Somewhere somehow, the line has been moved: the incarcerated are better cared for than the non-incarcerated.

The top 1% refuses to pick up golf balls, while the rest can’t afford meat balls.

Kids aren’t learning (slipped in ranking), while workers need to but can’t get it paid for by the employers or government.

Politicians are talking, but leaders aren’t leading.

We are bidding for time, for election, for miracles, and are freezed like deers in front of approaching head lights.

Actors are either making quiet retreat (Sundance Festival), or gone overboard (Eastwood and Samuel Jackson).

It’s the best time to be in  late-night comedy.

But SNL fans can’t stay up late (wrong demographic for that time slot).

Voting booths seem to always have problems in Florida. (Voters should be required to have an eye-exam). We are enjoying our time on the deck, but forgot to check the ship’s name. ( Titanic ?).

Even if it’s free, no ride lasts forever.

Every once in a while, we need to check the navigating instrument. No such thing as auto-piloting (Google unmanned car?).

Not in this age of post-innocence. Not at this time of austerity. Not now. Not ever. We need to be vigilant against those who quack like a leader, walk like a leader, but in fact, are not leaders at all. Leadership comes with a price. They come to take credits. This is the root of all imponderables: those who can’t lead, lead. Those who can, refuse to stay in the game.

Heart and Soul

The intangible qualities. We can only recognize them when we see them.

How can we put a measure on that which makes us human i.e. mortal yet full of life versus a machine whose sole existence is to carry out instructions and perform repetitive tasks without getting bored (the sad thing is when the machine gets to do interesting things, while human boring things).

Fordism has spreaded from automobile assembly line to the entire manufacturing process as we see today (Foxconn and workers’ tension).

Heart and Soul , however, are a bit elusive:  Air on the G String, Nocturne; Shubert can move you, a movie clip can make you feel  joyous or sad, elated or evaporated (The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face).

B movies and production houses have succumbed to poor substitutes e.g. sound track and laugh track.

Anything with an audience e.g. a lesson plan, a presentation, all-hands meeting; requires heart-and-soul delivery . To be flawless, one needs to go through 3 stages of rehearsal (courtesy of recent LinkedIn article on presentation rehearsal: You Sucks stage, Robotic stage, and finally You Rocks!).

Aim for standing ovation. Paint a broad stroke of vision, the type of speech Jesse Jackson would give at convention.

Facts and feeling. Sweat and tears. Fire and brimstone.

Orators of the past were known to speak at tent meetings for hours on end, most notably John Wesley. Today we only have day-time television which caters to the lowest common denominators : “Jerry, Jerry” ( with bouncers on the set). Or Maury, Maury …also w/ bouncers.

Jean-Luc Godard said: “all we need for a movie is a gun and a girl”. Hence, it seems as though all content was just  to fill the programming gap, waiting  to sell soap, soup and cereal.

Via Twitter, we saw glimpses of greatness, but only in 140 characters.

To stir the heart and soul, we need some work-up time.

Warm them up then chill them out. Stirring and settling.

Then BAM!. Hit them at the gut level. A call to ACTION.

Truth  has its own ring and can stand on its own legs.

Don’t get in its way.

Fear not.

Ask not.

Stay hungry, stay foolish.

He who is no fool to lose that which he cannot keep, to gain that which he cannot lose.

I have a dream.

Man from Hope.

It took a village.

Great orators stirred us and their sound bites stayed with us.

We feel a lump in our throat. It resonates and reinvigorates us.

It stirs up our Heart and our Soul.

It passed muster.

Quality is what you recognize when you see it.

The rest, any machine can do, at the automobile or chocolate factory.

Le Temp Modern. I love Lucy. Foxconn Apple plants. From Detroit to Disneyland, at the turn of  the 20th century to present time, are we happier now? (studies show China experiencing similar dissonance i.e. wealthier, but not happier, due to eroded “iron rice bowl”). Or the gas line and hot-dog line (at Cosco) have weighed you down?

Wake up Hot-Dog Nation. We can do better. Think and Ask Not. Feel the pain. Use it. Start rising. And don’t stop there. Have a dream. A different dream (by definition dreams are supposed to be out of this world. What are you being afraid of: that it might come true?)  Seek First. That Thy will be done,….but first on Earth.

the Invisibles

They are out there, sleeping in street corners, behind dumpsters, in the park and parking lot.

They move about collecting bottles and cans, junk and juice.

We have trained our eyes to tune them out, to ignore their pleas and pitches.

We certainly don’t read their signs. We already knew, since it’s written on cardboard and held up at street corners.

More people are invisible nowadays.

They don’t vote, nor do they write to their Congressional Representatives.

Whatever funding earmarked for Social Assistance, perhaps never got to them.

Another group of invisibles  but someday, they will be here: future generation.

Inheriting and becoming “salt of the Earth“.

They will drive Electric Vehicles, pick up the bottles and cans after themselves and even plant some organic vegetables.

Last type of invisibles are unseen trends but will be here: mobile payment, paperless society, central ID, Medical ID etc…

We know they are coming. We just resist the technology with policy.

Blocking natural science with political science.

But they will be here, in your children’s face.

Whether you like it or not.

The environment will need to sustain this Earth.

The product we use will need to be recycled.

And the weak among us will need to be tended to and be made productive again.

Can’t legislate away people, who elected you. Can’t ignore them. Can’t tune them out. It’s not kind and it’s not wise.

The invisibles will soon be the majority, if neglected long enough. Wise leaders are those who can see a little bit further into the future, and shed some lights on the gravest of matter. That’s why they are elected to represent us. Now, do your job.

Machine and Man

The Curiosity Rover landed intact. Mission Control jumped up and down. Machine and Man. One giant step. Let’s hug, even the meanest-looking of guys.

From Moon to Mars (better known as a candy bar), machine as modern-day Columbus.

Something in the way she moves.

Knowledge gap will be filled in the days ahead, on-screen and online.

Ask Not.

We are going places after running in place.

Some of us don’t run at all.

Austerity and sedentary.

Maintenance mode and screen-saver mode.

Let’s hope it’s just a temporary condition. What if it’s a new norm?

Industry anticipated deadlock. Companies scaled down orders, translated into non-expansion, translated into hiring freeze, translated into low consumer confidence and purchasing parity, translated into slower growth which feeds stagnation further on the downward spiral.

Stuck in high gear and high prices.  The harder you push, the more RPM, but no progress still.

Just revving noise.

Distraction (London) and attraction (Mars).

Summer breeze  for scorched Earth.

Wild fire and gun fires.

The State of the Union is not that good.

But no one is here to listen.  Even when they try “they do not know why”. Starry starry night.

From Moon to Mars.

Machine jolting Man to jump for joy. What happened in Mars got our full attention. What happened in Maine no longer triggers our curiosity despite its obvious and deteriorating “signs of life”.

Machine and Man.

 

Decoding the thing called Love

Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me, twice on the pipe if the answer is No.

We communicate, therefore we are.

Language of the heart.

The vibe. Hearts in sync. Le vent la mer le soleil et la pluie.

Heaven and Earth aligned.

Yin and Yan.

Mothers Day and Fathers Day.

Be brave.

Ask her. Some kids in the future are crying out: “ask her”.

Pappa. Maman.

Trial and error. Tried and true.

Fear not that which you needed most.

Love and fear, two sides of the same coin.

Three times if you want me. Twice on the pipe if the answer is No.

Sending the message in the bottle.

Recording it on papyrus and on (I)pad.

Sending the message via SMS.

Sending an e-mail, in mail, snail mail.

But send it.

Encode it.

She is smart enough to decode it.

It’s the male species who are slow in intuition.

Hello, is it me you are looking for.

I just want, to say, I love you.

We live in a society starving for the real thing.

Yet, all we’ve got are substitutes: for sweetheart we got sweet taste (sugar free), for skin and flesh we got silicon fillings.

Our hearts long to be set free. Yet, it cannot be freed until it is joint with others’.

As long as we decide. Then no more hearts on the roam.

They are meant to be in sync, to the same beats.

When the music stops, the joined hearts beat on. To their own rhythms.

He who listens to these beats will find happiness.

Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me. Twice on the pipe, if the answer is No.

Mua Saigon (rain on tin roof)

Out of hundreds, emerged one. Winner of the throne. Winner of brand simple. Vua Hung Vuong, Vietnam‘s first King. His campaign? Neither communication skill, nor combating skill. But culinary skill. Simple dishes yet full of meaning: square bean cake representing the Earth, round one the Moon.

Harmony without and symmetry within.

Bingo!

The throne is yours. May the gods bless your descendants. Expand and guard the territory now known as Vietnam.

Big and small, wave after wave.

Rain and tears.

Falling on tin roof and tile roof.

Musical- sounding and melodramatic.

Separation and reunion.

Hatred and healing, forgiveness and forgetfulness.

It’s easier to take revenge than to win the enemy over.

Whatever the motive, the results are the rewards.

Mua Saigon mua HaNoi.

Love those wet feet that stand deep in the mud. The agrarian culture.

Back bent over to harvest rice in the bowl.

Um. An di con. Eat so you can grow up and may your future be better than mine. Broken back and broken heart.

Go some place and don’t come back. How can I?

How do you expect me to turn my back to the buffalo in the field or the bean cake on the table?

Brand simple.

Square for Earth and round for Moon.

Incense for the altar and candle for the grave.

Noi chon nhau cat run (birth place and burial-place).

The apple cannot fall far from the tree.

You can take a boy out of Saigon but you can’t take Saigon out of the man.

District 1 to District 10, and any number in between.

Crooks and intelligentsia, fake and real (vang thau lan lon). Who cares!

Keep bragging. It’s your fate to be born here and die here, in whatever style you choose . The lucky ones went overseas. Are they “saved?” Don’t they know, it’s the end of the world, it ended when you said Goodbye.

Mua Saigon Mua Hanoi.

The rain keeps pounding on neighbors’ tin roof. And I feel jolted, by caffeine and endorphin, nicotine and nostalgia. It is so weird that I miss Saigon while already in it. Perhaps I miss what Saigon itself is missing: the longing for things past. Shared poverty and joy. Shared human fate. Bonjour Tristesse. Makes me teary. Makes me want to reach out and pull someone in my arms and say “it’s going to be OK”, you and I, fellow human being. After the rain the sky always clears up. Cry with me and for me, for now, rain and tears. No one will laugh at us. For everyone is doing the same but too ashmed to admit. Mua Saigon. You cannot understand it until you are in way deep.

Then came the rain

It rained on the book fair here in Saigon.

Word and water don’t mix.

But I must admit seeing young readers eager to browse anything and everything, even kissing the note books we handed out, warms my heart.

I can relate to why the Happiness Index listed top countries such as Costa Rica and Vietnam.

Money might not equate to happiness despite its buying power.

Except for things money can’t buy: loyalty, happiness, class, intellectual ability and natural talent in the arts. Yes, money can buy arts, but only commercial art.

We are nearing the Sunday evening gathering at my friend’s studio.

Not concert for Harrison, but for Long, our dear musician friend who had recently passed away.

Celebrating a life.  A pursuit of perfection. Of Art.

In my last conversation with him, I promised to live in full (as I always have).

A promise is a promise.

Long’s musician friends who still love him dearly, will have to perform early since they still have to make a living later that evening.

Books, music, and arts. We are here to make our marks in the world, to brand, to make it lasting and influential. To know and be known that we once existed.

Many held a low view of themselves. Others overshot their positions.

I know my friend well. He lived within his means, his range and his circle.

He left behind many people who are still endearing him.

And he had been one of the few with a smile that is hard to forget.

Thinking of Long, I associate a 7th grader with short-sleeves, playing bass guitar.

Time passing, but not dividing, lost but not forgotten.

I hope when I am gone, I can make a few dents like my friend.

Dents in people’s hearts, because they would be uncomfortable thinking of me. How the hell did he carry all those chips on his shoulders!.

I love Long because of who he was.

The rain has stopped. It served its unintended purpose: street washing. Now can my people go to the book fair!