Tag: Recreation

Self-appreciation

Bachelor Party. Spring Break. Girls’ Night Out. Spousal date…and the list goes on.

One of the things foreigners found fascinating about America is its sense of enjoyment (and sometimes entitlement). We’re gonna party, Winter Spring Summer or Fall.

Time for yourself.

Look at yourself in the mirror, just to acknowledge the reflection that is there.

Say, “I appreciate you” for…..(fill-in the blank)

Staying the course when others convince you to lower your self-expectations.

Listening to the inner voice and longing to connect, which only you know intimately.

That reservoir needs to be refilled. Take a Sabbatical break.

When one appreciates oneself, one can then appreciate others.

Self-denial can only go so far. Self-appreciation, on the other hand, is like daily vitamins.

After all, out of the many people you have met, who else knows you better than yourself:

the dark night of the soul, the bliss that comes unexpectedly (but not enough, especially when you were raised in a self-denial culture).

Appreciation is a offspring of gratitude.

You are thankful for being nurtured by the larger human family e.g. those unsung heroes who tilt the land and whose products end up at WholeFoods or Fastfoods; those scientists whose work were adopted by main stream, but remain unacknowledged (in the name of National Securities) e.g. 3-D printing, un-maned aircrafts, gene sequencing.

The story of our century is not about technology, but about technology bunched up into critical mass that help advance mankind:  crowdfunding here, a micro-loan there, gifts for the poor and gifts to loved ones.

All made possible via the internet and creative apps (Kickstarter helps fund movie scripts).

Individuals are empowered to voice and to give. That sense of helplessness is taken out of the equation. No more lacking in ways, just in will.

Back to the drawing board. Back to self-appreciation. Give yourself some slacks. Only then, can we be of use to others. Man exists to rise above mere survival instincts. To appreciate one’s self and others.  That connection has to start somewhere, really close to home.

I am sure you can list top of your head a dozen positive things about yourself.

Then go out to build on top of that, as a token of appreciation to your very best self.

jet lag

Jet lag makes you feel hallucinating. Your body clock is still in sync with the old-time zone, and so, your sleep is out of whack.  Brought back a memory of a minor jet lag (East coast, West coast), whose hotel bed could not even induce me to sleep.

Then I visited my mom at her then assisted living apartment. As soon as I got there, I just laid down and took a nap.

My most peaceful nap to date, and the  last time I remember ever be near the womb which had incubated me.

We are defenseless against forces of nature. Yet we need to survive as much as ants in their colonies.

Somewhere along the line, we learn when to push the limits, when to yield to Jurassic Park electrified edge.

Aging is one.

I could handle jet lag in my younger years much better (coming back from the East doesn’t help).

I however use this time to recover and reflect, on lessons learned.

I learned from people young and old, and not just old.

I picked up a few tips from people of different personalities and nationalities.

You can say, I try to cross-pollinate while cross-referencing my newly acquired contextual learning.

I found out there are many ways to skin a cat, carve a cow and smoke beef.

Just as there are many ways to love and express love. Betrayal however has only one.

Even then, I learned. All along still trusting, still hoping there will always be next time. Hope never fails.

And jet lag doesn’t last forever. Just like any lingering pain at the joint or the heart.

I have never come back to that Assisted Living since my mom had long passed away. But every time I got a jet lag, I do miss having that nap on Mom’s bed. Feel safe and accepted, no matter how far along you have been.

Personality as motivator

Besides fun, fear and need for recognition, each of us is motivated by an unique set of triggers.

Some are expressive e.g. talk it out to then realize what they think.

Analytical people, however, weigh the pros and cons before opening their mouths.

Amiable people just empathize, feely-touchy and are good listeners

Social folks love to smok’em at barbecue parties: the more the merrier.

Finally, the quickest of all are the Alpha-Male types: shoot first aim later.

Most managers have been managed by other managers, who in turn, pass down the command-control model.

Just Do It!

And they are right half of the time.

When workers left their company, nobody bothered to do a post-mortem.

It’s like a death in the family. To be politically correct, nobody should mention the “others” who are no longer “us”.

Write if off on the left column, as burnt rate, from attrition.

Even in warfare, military historians take years of reflection and review to extract “lessons learned”.

Companies cannot afford this. Just hire new staff. Invest in new head counts.

The (vicious) cycle starts again. One motivational model imposed on various types off workers.

My way or highway.

The best middle manager is the one who can negotiate and walk the fine line between corporate interests and line workers/market expectations, between Wall Street and Main Street.

The best leaders are ones who can detect conflicting signals sent up and down the chain. Without the people carrying out strategies and tactics, things don’t move. But to move so fast in the wrong direction is much worse. (see Matterhorn or My Lai Massacre).

It boils down to attitude, aim and action. Recent article in the NYT shows that people who adjust their course mid-stream (after examining underlining assumptions)  can pivot to success. It’s not difficult to apply the right mix of motivators. But first, one needs to be self-motivated and undergo self-examination (ego? pride? face-saving?).

And this process is hard. Look yourself in the mirror, know all the weaknesses  and seek redemption. That’s when things start to turn. There is no coach that will yell at you. Just an empty locker room at half-time. Helmets off. Sweat and tears. The score board doesn’t lie. We are all behind, to face imminent loss. And worst of, loss of self-confidence. Seek the right mix of motivators for your team, yourself and your families. Tough-love yourself.

Fear as Motivator

As a child I feared rising flood water (drowning).

I feared thief by night, bully by day.

I feared having to stand out in the crowd (wearing bright colors).

For a nail that sticks up will be hammered down.

Fear of being drafted, of being called out in class to recite something in English.

Fear of being compared to other high achievers (relatives or peers).

Vietnamese childhood has been a dread.

Peer and parental pressures would make “Tiger Mom” in America paper Tiger.

French teachers would check my finger nails every day, and neighbors would stare if I put on a new shirt. Later, in seminary and seminars at corporate level, people would ensure conformity (rep ties, Oxford blue .. the Brook Brothers look). Sales trainers role-played down to a firm handshake and advised our teeth-cleaning every three months.

All that, until the pink slip came.

Then I don’t put much weight behind those fear of the unknown. Some people whose life was totally invested in those codes, couldn’t take it e.g. retirees from the CIA were known to die within a few years off-service.

The old Command-and-Control system works well within the confine of those groups (cultic and militaristic).

But our new world, our multi-polar world, is looking for a different kind of leaders or even leaderless organization.

The best thing can happen to a worker is being fired. Then he/she can begin a new narrative and journey.

The mother of all fears is fear of death. Work back from there, and you will be amazed.

In my end, my beginning.

Like it or not, we are armed with an instinct to survive (camouflage, conformity and compromise). We know when to hold, when to fold.

The cavemen reflexes are built-in.

Cavemen or corporate men.

IBM Red-white-and-blue or hairy beardy 60’s. We carry our fears around.

Just use it, as a motivator.

A little more risk here, a toning down there. We will find the ideal mix between self-destruction and self-preservation.

Those who venture nothing gain nothing.

Those who risk it all, got nothing left to show.

But progress demands self-disruption and self-examination.

History is made by those who both advanced and retreated.

The fear business, like the vice business, take up a lot of GNP.

9/11 took that up a few notches: scanning machines and profiling algorithms.

With all the security apparatus in place, we still fear (no large shampoo in carry on).

Fear paralyzes, fun liberates.

Animals spring out to appear larger than they are (to self-preserve).

Butterflies also flap their wings to gain wind leverage and to avoid capture.

Use that which we are endowed with.

Fear motivates but dull not our senses because of fear.

The odd that something bad happens twice at the same place and circumstances is nil. Use our heads. People who got Purple Heart are testimonies to valor and courage, in the face of fear. I still fear of flood, of bullies and of corporal punishment. But they fear me too, if I turned off mine.

Use it.

Traffic dance in Saigon

First-timers to Saigon are shocked on arrival: the dance of two-wheel traffic.

Some even had to flag down a cyclo (three-way cycle) to take them across the street. An Ivy-League Math Prof was killed when crossing the street. He was there for a conference on solving traffic problems.

I have slowly built up confidence and coordination not to fight traffic but to dance with it.  Here are some observations:

– People ride on survival instinct and years of communal living: negotiating, turn-taking…

(unlike Western’s right of way)

– Expect the unexpected (scooters that go the wrong way)

– Traffic signs are not hundred per cent observed. In short, break all rules

– At rush hour, people tend to ride more slowly to accommodate heavy volume

– With the helmet law strictly enforced, there have been fewer accidents

– Almost everyone has been hit, ran over, or got a scratch. It’s a badge of honor

– When in an accident, people quickly blame the other party (emblemic in face-saving culture) then move on

– Buses, automobiles, scooters, cyclos, pedestrians, handicapped people v.v… all have equal right of way, but buses have louder horns and weave in and out of traffic per passenger’s request

– best way to navigate rush hour traffic is to take a “xe-om” (taxi-scooter) since these drivers know which alleys and arteries for short-cut

– when it rains, it’s best to stay out of the street, since available surface is taken over by undrained water (sewage problems).

Traffic don’t just get to be this dense overnight. It’s been built up over time.

The same with your capacity to become one with it. It takes time. In my case, many trips and trials (got whacked once by a wrong-way scooter) barely got me to be a member of the club.

After that, your next lesson will be how to stay out of the sun given a few shades left in the city. For now, watch in ALL directions when crossing, not just the designated flow of legal traffic. Survival trumps legality. Be brave and smart. Watch before you leap, but then, he who hesitates is lost.

If you got in an accident, blame the other party first, then move on.

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.

Point A To B

We make that trip all our lives. To and Fro. Back and Forth. Arriving and Leaving.

The Goodbye Girl. The Run-Away Bride.

The Mid-night Cowboy. All feels restless Gotta be somebody, going places. This time, point B happens to be Mars itself.

Young people can muster up the courage to go to far-away wars, but dare not venture to South Side.

When B is too close to home (the last few inches are the toughest distance to cross), it’s psychological, not geographical distance e.g.when B is your estranged relatives, your difficult siblings or your X’s.

Somehow, it’s a long trip home if we are not in good terms.

It just is.

Many of us just stay put at point A whose Point B is the general store, or the post office.  For some shut-ins, B and A are the same.

Creative folks refuse to accept that the straight line between A and  B is the shortest. They want style, twist and shout, over and back, or spiral in coils before landing (thus milking the trip out).

We thank them for thinking out of the box. This country needs creative folks: architects, designers and coders.

They don’t sleep much at night. In fact, that’s when they are hard at work.

Bringing us better looking buildings and greener use of space. In-style clothes, shoes, glasses and hats.

Slicker version of WordPress, more integrated communication and command of thoughts and ideas.

The world is a better place thanks to them.

The ROW (rest of world) envies them, imitates them and copies them.

You know you hit the spot when the Chinese start churning out look-alikes.

Let them.

Go on to the next spark, follow the next urge.

Turn things inside out (Madona and Jane Fonda during the 80’s wore underwear outside).

Spell GaGa backward.

AgAg!

(she is going to kill me).

From A to B, a straight line is not necessary the shortest.  Who is to say.

Meanwhile, right after reading this, you will go from point A to point B again. Take the scenic route. Enjoy the city on the Hill. The long view. Take a leisurely Sunday Drive. Order a chili dog. Indulge. Pampering. Eat, drink and be merry. We need it. It’s been too much of point A to point B. Rest up. Until you feel restless again, Papillon.

Little space lots of room

Saigon wasn’t built or planned for 10 million (back in the 50’s, its population was 1 million).

And certainly not when scooters are on fire as happened lately.

Raging hot. World in flame. Flashback of Monk Thich Quang Duc protesting dictatorship (Tunesian’s style).

I fight for my jogging lane, negotiating between the sidewalk and the drainage.

It’s a busy street (CMTT). Any time of the day. Even at 3 am when seafoods merchants divide their catch.

Even in the alleys, you will find more shops: alteration, general stores, beauty salon etc…

People live in boxy homes. But not cardboard boxes (rainy season has just started ).

No evidence of homelessness as much as in Skid Row or S. Central LA.

More room in the alley, little space in the streets.

Mexicans would feel at home here, hearing loud music from retail stores.

Fashion stores, sweet-cake and coffee shops (western-style cappuccino, espresso, smoothies).

The Filippino band found their new home at the Hard Rock Cafe. The Pitch Black got a bright future . Not bad for kids from Barangay, near Bataan (where Vietnamese and Cambodian made their stop on the way to America back in the early 80’s). As of this edit, I heard they were disbanded.

When I am back to the US, jogging on the trail of a deserted golf course, I will miss all this.

Little elbow room, yet lots of heart.

Nuong nhau ma song (relying on each other to make it through).

There was always one more bowl and a pair of chopsticks back when I was growing up. Anh xoi com chua a? Have you eaten today?

Empty space

Void. Vacuum. Unfilled and unoccupied space.

Plenty of them, within and without.

So we fear its vastness.

We try to fill it up with stuff.

In the process, making ourselves mini-gods.

Co-creators of space-filling. Bed, bath and beyond.

Then give them away to Goodwill to make room for more empty space.

Everyone got problems with fitting everything into a suitcase before each trip.

If you leave me now, you take away the biggest part of me.

That “part of me” is abstract and intangible.

But real nonetheless.

So we have commitment. We honor faithfulness and loyalty. not betrayal.

We extol unseen virtues, unspoken agreement between two people.

That thing called love, duty and honor.

Old school.

But we search for it all our life.

Business world says “screw it”.

Real world says “search for it”.

Which is which?

Lonely at the top.

The dying and fading King.

Kingdom in disarray.

Gates wide open for invaders and looters.

Who is going to stand by you in the hour of need?

Empty space. God-shaped vacuum.

Time flows one way into infinity.

Space is just out there, with Earth older than previously thought.

Space is also inside each of us. All empty.

Until it is filled with joy and laughters. Of children’s nagging and giggling.

It’s not about occupying space.

It’s about validating existing one, granted in each of us. Inalienable if you will.

The right to exist, to breathe, to figure it all out for one’s self.

Business says “screw it, let’s do it” (Branson)

Church says “save it in the name of our Lord“.

Life says “you are to hold on to it, since it is going around only once”.

That empty space, regardless being occupied with Gucci or Goodwill,  is all we’ve got.

Love, hate and fear. All share that same empty and inner space, called Self.

Vibration and sensation

What do you do when you are awaken in the dark, with trumpet sound out “auld lang sync”? (To te con me danh du).

Should we forget the time we picked daisies in the field.

Yet that vibration created sensation at the early hour here in Saigon.

The departed tried to fight traffic to his/her burial ground. No more struggling and striving, action and reaction – stimulus and response. Just vibration without sensation. Stimuli with no response. The dead is gathering dust. Girls become ghosts. The ghosts of Vietnam.

No rest for the weary.

Just more exploitation built on top of the other.

Auld Lang Sync. Chet cha con ma nao day, thang Tay het hot, than lan cut duoi.