酷我-北美枫

[ericcoliu]

(My three submissions, My Mother’s Dream, Life in Transition, and Border Crossings, were accepted at different times but published in the same issue, the February 1, 2009 No. 65, of CANADIAN STORIES, a literary magazine featuring family stories, personal experiences and memories of the past.

According to its Editor Ed Janzen, “they look very good all together." I was overjoyed by his decision. These three pieces succinctly portray my immigration journey in verse and prose

My three stories have generated an enthusiastic outpouring of diverse letters from readers. Below are two excerpts from Letters to the Editor:


The other piece to catch my attention was “Border Crossings” by Chen-ou Liu. It tells a huge story so simply. I’ve heard that truth so often; that an immigrant never feels at home until he or she either visited the homeland again or, as in the case in this poem, gone somewhere else and returned to recognize home. It’s a revealing little poem.

Sincerely,
Kay Parley


In Issue #65, there were several stories by recent immigrants from Asia. That’s the NEW face of Canada and I think fits very well in a CANADIAN STORIES magazine.

I’m especially thinking of the stories by Chen-ou Liu. In “My Mother’s Dream” it is so poignantly told of the emotions of parting when a member of a family leaves for a distant land. I have often wondered why my ancestors left Europe and how difficult it must have been for them and for the ones left behind. But that was so far in the past that there was none left to ask. I also liked the story, “Life In Transition”. As one who loves nature and observes as much as I can, it was enlightening to me to learn that a maple tree can teach such important lesson. “Border Crossings” expressed so much in so few words. It was beautiful!

Ellis Gunter
}




My Mother’s Dream


I remember the night before I immigrated to Canada. My mother was helping me to pack my luggage, and she began to tell me about the dream she had had the night before.

In her dream, she stood holding me in her arms firmly and helplessly, unable to see anything ahead of her, for she was enveloped by darkness. I, on the other hand, was resting in her arms, completely unaware of her situation. She felt alone and her face was sweating. With the passage of time, she found my body becoming heavier and heavier, and she began to panic, not knowing how long she could stand firmly and hold me tightly. At this terrible moment in her life, the only thing occupying her mind was how catastrophic it would be if she fainted and let go of me. A pain rose gradually from her feet and finally up to her shoulders and arms. She gritted her teeth and endured her pain, praying to her Goddess for help.

At the moment when my mother reached the point of almost total despair, suddenly, a spot of bright, clean space appeared by her side. The space was completely flat and big enough to accommodate me. Full of gratitude to her Goddess, she used her last ounce of strength to put me down gently while I remained sound asleep. As soon as I was laid on the ground, the earth unexpectedly began to tilt. My place of rest was now a slope. I started to slide down very quickly. While careening down, I suddenly grew up, and within few minutes was no larger than a speck of dust. My mother cried out in unspeakable desperation.

Still helping me to pack, my mother looked gently at me for a moment with tears welling up in the edges of her eyes, and said, "Take good care of you while you are away from home."



Life in Transition


Being here. Sitting at my desk. I look out the window at the maple tree in the garden. The maple has lost all of its leaves. It simply relinquishes the riches of the season without any grief; it lets go and goes deep into its roots for sleep and renewal for the upcoming year.

When I am alone, I really see and feel the maple; I pay attention to it. Why? Partly because it changes right before my eyes. It lives and dies in the natural cycle of life, keeping me from total immersion in self-pity and in touch with process, growth, and also dying. I float with its moments and feel alive again.

Sometimes I wonder whether it is possible in middle age to reinvent one’s self radically. Can I control resentment and regrets, master a new language, and express my thoughts and impulses fully in a borrowed tongue? If I cannot, I will gradually lose who I was and become uncertain and insecure about who I am and what I am going to do for the rest of my life. Since my immigration to Canada in 2002, I have done nothing important, but go ahead with life, moment by moment and hour by hour: cleaning the house, preparing meals, and going out for grocery shopping. If I cannot achieve anything, I can at least try to create some order and sanity around me.

Does anything in nature despair except man? A wounded animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is closed in on itself, to a kind of still, intense, and seemingly endless waiting. Is this the key? Keeping yourself busy with survival?

I’m alone sitting at the desk and immersed in my despair; meanwhile the world goes on. The world does not seem to care about my despair. It does not matter how depressed I am for nature continues with both inanimate and animate forms in their cyclical occurrences. The sun is moving across the landscape, over the maple tree. At this moment, perhaps, the maple lends itself to my imagination as if inviting me to imitate it. Learn to lose in order to recover for nothing stays the same for long, not even pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let the maple tree teach me to care and not to care; let it teach me to sit still.


Border Crossings


A newcomer to Ajax,
you've stayed there six years;
but at night in dreams,
Taipei is still your hometown.

Today, you drove south
across the Canada/USA border
and were awakened:
Ajax is now your home.



I’ve expanded Border Crossings and renamed it to Crabwalk:


Crabwalk (Poem Sequence Based on Chinese Poetics)


I

Every night
I slept in Taipei
but woke up in Ajax

My mind was winged
by a yearning
for things not yet lost


II

An immigrant to Ajax
I'd stayed there six years
but at night in dreams
Taipei was still my home

Last week, I drove south
across the Canadian border
Reality dawned and I realized
From now on Ajax will be
where I am from


III

Sometimes I dream in Chinese
I dream my father's dream
I awake and become Eric

Sunlight streams into my room
caressing me with its warmth
as it welcomes me home
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

(My three submissions, My Mother’s Dream, Life in Transition, and Border Crossings, were accepted at different times but published in the same issue, the February 1, 2009 No. 65, of CANADIAN STORIES, a literary magazine featuring family stories, personal experiences and memories of the past.

According to its Editor Ed Janzen, “they look very good all together." I was overjoyed by his decision. These three pieces succinctly portray my immigration journey in verse and prose

My three stories have generated an enthusiastic outpouring of diverse letters from readers. Below are two excerpts from Letters to the Editor:


The other piece to catch my attention was “Border Crossings” by Chen-ou Liu. It tells a huge story so simply. I’ve heard that truth so often; that an immigrant never feels at home until he or she either visited the homeland again or, as in the case in this poem, gone somewhere else and returned to recognize home. It’s a revealing little poem.

Sincerely,
Kay Parley


In Issue #65, there were several stories by recent immigrants from Asia. That’s the NEW face of Canada and I think fits very well in a CANADIAN STORIES magazine.

I’m especially thinking of the stories by Chen-ou Liu. In “My Mother’s Dream” it is so poignantly told of the emotions of parting when a member of a family leaves for a distant land. I have often wondered why my ancestors left Europe and how difficult it must have been for them and for the ones left behind. But that was so far in the past that there was none left to ask. I also liked the story, “Life In Transition”. As one who loves nature and observes as much as I can, it was enlightening to me to learn that a maple tree can teach such important lesson. “Border Crossings” expressed so much in so few words. It was beautiful!

Ellis Gunter
}




My Mother’s Dream


I remember the night before I immigrated to Canada. My mother was helping me to pack my luggage, and she began to tell me about the dream she had had the night before.

In her dream, she stood holding me in her arms firmly and helplessly, unable to see anything ahead of her, for she was enveloped by darkness. I, on the other hand, was resting in her arms, completely unaware of her situation. She felt alone and her face was sweating. With the passage of time, she found my body becoming heavier and heavier, and she began to panic, not knowing how long she could stand firmly and hold me tightly. At this terrible moment in her life, the only thing occupying her mind was how catastrophic it would be if she fainted and let go of me. A pain rose gradually from her feet and finally up to her shoulders and arms. She gritted her teeth and endured her pain, praying to her Goddess for help.

At the moment when my mother reached the point of almost total despair, suddenly, a spot of bright, clean space appeared by her side. The space was completely flat and big enough to accommodate me. Full of gratitude to her Goddess, she used her last ounce of strength to put me down gently while I remained sound asleep. As soon as I was laid on the ground, the earth unexpectedly began to tilt. My place of rest was now a slope. I started to slide down very quickly. While careening down, I suddenly grew up, and within few minutes was no larger than a speck of dust. My mother cried out in unspeakable desperation.

Still helping me to pack, my mother looked gently at me for a moment with tears welling up in the edges of her eyes, and said, "Take good care of you while you are away from home."



Life in Transition


Being here. Sitting at my desk. I look out the window at the maple tree in the garden. The maple has lost all of its leaves. It simply relinquishes the riches of the season without any grief; it lets go and goes deep into its roots for sleep and renewal for the upcoming year.

When I am alone, I really see and feel the maple; I pay attention to it. Why? Partly because it changes right before my eyes. It lives and dies in the natural cycle of life, keeping me from total immersion in self-pity and in touch with process, growth, and also dying. I float with its moments and feel alive again.

Sometimes I wonder whether it is possible in middle age to reinvent one’s self radically. Can I control resentment and regrets, master a new language, and express my thoughts and impulses fully in a borrowed tongue? If I cannot, I will gradually lose who I was and become uncertain and insecure about who I am and what I am going to do for the rest of my life. Since my immigration to Canada in 2002, I have done nothing important, but go ahead with life, moment by moment and hour by hour: cleaning the house, preparing meals, and going out for grocery shopping. If I cannot achieve anything, I can at least try to create some order and sanity around me.

Does anything in nature despair except man? A wounded animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is closed in on itself, to a kind of still, intense, and seemingly endless waiting. Is this the key? Keeping yourself busy with survival?

I’m alone sitting at the desk and immersed in my despair; meanwhile the world goes on. The world does not seem to care about my despair. It does not matter how depressed I am for nature continues with both inanimate and animate forms in their cyclical occurrences. The sun is moving across the landscape, over the maple tree. At this moment, perhaps, the maple lends itself to my imagination as if inviting me to imitate it. Learn to lose in order to recover for nothing stays the same for long, not even pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let the maple tree teach me to care and not to care; let it teach me to sit still.


Border Crossings


A newcomer to Ajax,
you've stayed there six years;
but at night in dreams,
Taipei is still your hometown.

Today, you drove south
across the Canada/USA border
and were awakened:
Ajax is now your home.



I’ve expanded Border Crossings and renamed it to Crabwalk:


Crabwalk (Poem Sequence Based on Chinese Poetics)


I

Every night
I slept in Taipei
but woke up in Ajax

My mind was winged
by a yearning
for things not yet lost


II

An immigrant to Ajax
I'd stayed there six years
but at night in dreams
Taipei was still my home

Last week, I drove south
across the Canadian border
Reality dawned and I realized
From now on Ajax will be
where I am from


III

Sometimes I dream in Chinese
I dream my father's dream
I awake and become Eric

Sunlight streams into my room
caressing me with its warmth
as it welcomes me home
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[Lake]

eric,

A smoothly written journal with sentiment and remorse very well expressed. You are not alone, and in a way you are more lucky than some people who are either not willing to or do not have the ability as you do to talk about their despair.

From what you wrote it sounds like you have a settled, comfortable life unlike a trapped animal that is busy with survival so that you have more time to think about what life means.

We do what we can. The choice we made makes a difference.

Hope you can get enlightened by observing a maple tree.

Cheers,

Lake

[[Lake]]

eric,

A smoothly written journal with sentiment and remorse very well expressed. You are not alone, and in a way you are more lucky than some people who are either not willing to or do not have the ability as you do to talk about their despair.

From what you wrote it sounds like you have a settled, comfortable life unlike a trapped animal that is busy with survival so that you have more time to think about what life means.

We do what we can. The choice we made makes a difference.

Hope you can get enlightened by observing a maple tree.

Cheers,

Lake

[ericcoliu]

Thanks for your comment.

I do live a settled, comfortable life with an unsettling mind and heart. With the passage of time, this settled life has disquieted my soul.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

Thanks for your comment.

I do live a settled, comfortable life with an unsettling mind and heart. With the passage of time, this settled life has disquieted my soul.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[星子]

Let the maple tree: teach me to care and not to care; teach me to sit still.


The nature knows: the beauty inside always thrills us.
_________________

[[ANNA]]

Let the maple tree: teach me to care and not to care; teach me to sit still.


The nature knows: the beauty inside always thrills us.
_________________

[Lake]

A poem I read today:

Like dew that vanishes,
like a phantom that disappears,
or the light cast
 by a flash of lightning----
so should one think of oneself.

By Ikkyu Sojun
Tr. Steven Carter

[[Lake]]

A poem I read today:

Like dew that vanishes,
like a phantom that disappears,
or the light cast
 by a flash of lightning----
so should one think of oneself.

By Ikkyu Sojun
Tr. Steven Carter

[ericcoliu]

Yes, one should think of oneself in order to let go of oneself.


Only one koan matters - you ~Ikkyu Sojun


Thanks for your timely advice.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

Yes, one should think of oneself in order to let go of oneself.


Only one koan matters - you ~Ikkyu Sojun


Thanks for your timely advice.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[Lake]

It is always easier said than done.

Now I need to try and follow the advice myself.

[[Lake]]

It is always easier said than done.

Now I need to try and follow the advice myself.

[ericcoliu]

I' ve revised and renamed the journal entry of Oct 22, 2003 as Life in Transition.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

I' ve revised and renamed the journal entry of Oct 22, 2003 as Life in Transition.
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[老婆婆]

I don't think it is too late to change your life when you are in middld-age. Though I am still too young to say that, I really think that once you set up your mind to do something new, it is never too late.

When you determine to try something new, you will find the passion that has lost in your life as time goes by. And in front of you, a new life begins.

To me, life is just beginning, everything is so fresh, so new and so wonderful. You have experienced this period I am experiencing now. When you set up your mind to change your life, you will experience this period once again.

Chinese people can become famous English writers. But what we need much more are good translators who can translate good Chinese articles into English ones. To let foreigners know.
_________________
请大家多多指教，谢谢！

[[老婆婆]]

I don't think it is too late to change your life when you are in middld-age. Though I am still too young to say that, I really think that once you set up your mind to do something new, it is never too late.

When you determine to try something new, you will find the passion that has lost in your life as time goes by. And in front of you, a new life begins.

To me, life is just beginning, everything is so fresh, so new and so wonderful. You have experienced this period I am experiencing now. When you set up your mind to change your life, you will experience this period once again.

Chinese people can become famous English writers. But what we need much more are good translators who can translate good Chinese articles into English ones. To let foreigners know.
_________________
请大家多多指教，谢谢！

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]

[ericcoliu]

My three submissions, My Mother’s Dream, Life in Transition, and Border Crossings, were accepted at different times but published in the same issue, the February 1, 2009 No. 65, of CANADIAN STORIES, a literary magazine featuring family stories, personal experiences and memories of the past.

According to its Editor Ed Janzen, “they look very good all together.’ I was overjoyed by his decision. These three pieces succinctly portray my immigration journey in verse and prose
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

My three submissions, My Mother’s Dream, Life in Transition, and Border Crossings, were accepted at different times but published in the same issue, the February 1, 2009 No. 65, of CANADIAN STORIES, a literary magazine featuring family stories, personal experiences and memories of the past.

According to its Editor Ed Janzen, “they look very good all together.’ I was overjoyed by his decision. These three pieces succinctly portray my immigration journey in verse and prose
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[浴恩福]

[[浴恩福]]

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]

[dundas]

Congratulations to you on your publication!

Three pieces published in the same issue. Quite an achievement!

[[dundas]]

Congratulations to you on your publication!

Three pieces published in the same issue. Quite an achievement!

[ericcoliu]

Yes. Home is where the heart is.

Salman Rushdie says, in "Imaginary Homelands", that "it may be argued that the past is a country from which we have all emigrated ... but ... the writer who is out-of-country and even out-of-language may experience this loss in an intensified form ... of his being 'elsewhere'" (p 12).
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

Yes. Home is where the heart is.

Salman Rushdie says, in "Imaginary Homelands", that "it may be argued that the past is a country from which we have all emigrated ... but ... the writer who is out-of-country and even out-of-language may experience this loss in an intensified form ... of his being 'elsewhere'" (p 12).
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul