Somebody asked if I carried a gun while I was in Viet Nam. No. There was a war going on so everybody was armed to the teeth. My pizza deliveries took me way out into the boondocks, where they fought with M16s, AK47s, and up: mortars, tanks, helicopters, machine guns. If somebody was going to make a fuss, what could I do that would make any sort of impression? Carry a rocket launcher?

I was definitely the only American male who did not carry a firearm in that very macho environment: my gun's bigger than your gun! A lot of clubs and restaurants had a 50 gallon barrel filled with sand at the entrance. Upon entering, etiquette required you empty your firearms into that, rather than into the clientele.

My pizza route often went through Viet Cong and North Viet Namese Army territory. Being armed would have made me a combatant. Unarmed, I was simply an idiot. My theory was, the people fighting the war shot at combatants, not at idiots, so I was safer unarmed.

For a while, I did carry a pair of numchuks (rice thrashers, nunchaku, 連耞，雙節棍) on my belt, because in close quarters in Saigon – the only situation in which I would have a remote chance of survival anyway – they were as good as a pistol. Nobody knew what they were, since Bruce Lee's ridiculous movies hadn't been filmed yet, so any potential berserkers were mystified long enough for me to remove myself to more hospitable situations. The numchuks were good solid oak, and heavy, so they pulled down my belt, though, and I gave them up. When I came to Taiwan, Tam Gibbs/唐模 introduced me to black paper fans/杭州黑扇, so whenever I went back to Viet Nam, I carried one always. It too mystified people, and it did save my life, again and again, by providing me with a fresh breeze under the hot sun. More than any gun could do.

And anyway, I don't think my mother would have let me have a gun. Granted, Mother's permission was not a factor that concerned many of the spooky types running around shooting people, but for me, it was decisive. So no, I never did carry a gun in Viet Nam.

電線桿上寫「死後有審判」。其實不對：時時刻刻都有審判，而判官是自己。每一個念頭、每一個抉擇，都在審判，我是甚麼樣的人？我對自己的要求、規範是甚麼？我作人作事堂堂正正、光明磊落，或者偷雞摸狗？敬業盡職或偷工減料？對自己、對家人、對社會負責，或敢作不敢當？是君子是小人？

每一剎那每一個念頭都在審判自身的期許、原則、操守。這些點點滴滴加起來造成習慣，習慣造成個性，個性塑造命運。死後哪有閻羅王？投胎轉世由自己念頭決定的。

常常作甚麼樣的思維，就是甚麼樣的人、甚麼樣的心；業由斯而織成，下一世就這麼決定。重要的審判不在死後，而是在日常生活舉止中。

閻羅王能作的頂多是在成績單上批分數，可是分數卻是自己用生命計的。

往往父母很能幹的話，子女有壓力，因此等長大、翅膀硬了，必須要有自己的天空，找出自己的空間。這很正常，也很健康。但是如果孩子一味否定自己的父母，卻沒有活出有自身的特色，反而是一種不成熟;若繼續走死胡同，難有成就。

同樣，有人提臺灣獨立。若是文化上的成長，很好；文化上要成長，倘使奠立在中華文化燦爛成就上，發展空間極廣闊。但是如果始終做為一種封閉的政治手段，臺灣會悶死。

第一，我不肯讓政治決定我的生命。政治是人群管理而已，是權術；我不肯把政黨當作我的宗教。

第二，中華文化那麼的豐富奧妙，怎麼會有人想去中國化？想去中國化的人，不是文化人，而是勾心鬥角的政客，我不願這種人影響我的精神生活。

Did you see what the Pope said about college students?

"The students at the new university devote themselves largely to pleasure and are avid for food and wine, and they are not restrained by any discipline."

Isn't that so! He goes on to comment acerbically on how easily excited they are by "shameless women." Really, wouldn't you say it's tragic how young people don't have any respect for the virtues and traditions of their elders? Have they totally forgotten old time religion? Why can't they follow the rules and commandments that have been passed down by their forefathers? If they would just obey their elders and consent to learn from the wisdom of earlier ages, why, the world would be a much better place to live in, don't you agree?

Before you agree too quickly, I should admit that the pope we're discussing here was Pius II, and he wrote that around 1458.

老師去哪裡跨年？
沒出去，留在家裡。
那麼老師耶誕到哪裡狂歡？
我不是教徒，我不過聖誕節，可是我還是尊重他們的「平安夜」，加上不愛熱鬧，所以沒有狂歡。
……又不跨年，又不過耶誕，不是很無聊嗎？
怎麼會？我很忙。
忙甚麼？
很多事！例如，下雨天，可以聽雨聲，還有群鳥寒蛙，都很好聽！霧呀、山嵐、草木蕨石土都好看，怎麼會無聊？
……嗯，這個…那麼老師最近有沒有看甚麼比較好看的電影？

老實念佛是真諦，卻記，是老實念佛，不是死板念佛。認為只要用心念佛即可往生淨土，好比認為用心念縫紉機死後成縫紉機。

老實念=佛=，「佛」是「覺」的意思，念佛不覺，念啥？

修淨土容易淖滯。老實念佛，要活用。

A story I heard a long time ago: a man asked his rabbi, In the old days people used to see the face of god, but now nobody does. Why not?

The rabbi said, Because they cannot bow low enough.

===
莊子說，每下愈況

Dawn of the new year.
昨晚十二點很多遊客放燄火，讓我想起…民國六十一年，我跟幾個美國朋友在新生南路租了一間公寓。六十二年元旦將到來，買了一串鞭炮，十二點到就放；很遠的地方聽到一兩個地方也有人放，但幾乎所有人已熟睡，完全不理元旦。跟班上同學說我們有放鞭炮，他們不了解元旦有甚麼好慶祝的。我反問他們，元旦為甚麼不慶祝？大家反應一樣：新曆年是外國的東西，所以元旦不重要；重要的是農曆年。
現在呢，到數狂歡。

A swarm of several bees visited my front door this morning. By the time I thought about filming it, most of them had passed. This is the tail end of the swarm. Happy new year, little buddies.

In Portugal, it's against the law to pee in the ocean.
I appreciate the effort, but I really wonder how they enforce that one.

Recently I have seen some shoe ads that tickle me. They advertise A Truly Natural Look, Natural Shoes, footwear that gets you close to nature, and so forth. Shell out your dough and you too can enjoy nature with expensive shoes that (please read this part in an appropriately excited voice, like the advertisers write it) breathe and dry easily!

I have a pair of natural footwear that fits me perfectly. They breathe and dry easily, too. They are all-terrain and all-weather, and have great traction. (see photo).

To be honest, I should qualify all-weather: all-weather in Wulai. They work great in sunshine, in typhoons, and all year round, but the coldest it gets here is about 2C. I have tried them out on snow, but I'm not acclimated for that, so I kept it up only about half an hour. I plan to be in Boston this winter, so my thoughts turned to my feet.

Last year when I went to New York wearing my shoes, they disintegrated at the check-in counter, for lack of use (please see this blog for December 21, 2005). To avoid a replay, I dug out my hiking boots for a trial walk to make sure they still worked. I hadn't worn them for five or six years, so my worries were justified.

I made my trial hike late at night, lest I frighten a neighbor. If they saw me shod, they would probably call for an ambulance. With headlamp attached and dogs scampering, I set out through the bamboo. Now this is very interesting, because the slight path is ill-defined; very quickly I lost the trail. That had never happened to me. I think that before, when I went out at night, my feet recognized the trail and kept me on it. Ensconced in shoes, my feet were cut off from their surroundings, and eyesight alone was insufficient for me to find the path.

Walking in hiking boots, I realized how much I have come to depend on my bare feet. Barefoot, I know the texture of the ground I am walking on, its temperature, dryness or wetness, rocks, leaves, soil, bamboo, what have you. Walking shod, I felt removed from the environment.

Also, I had trouble with slipping. These are good Italian hiking boots with Vibram soles, but bare feet conform to the surface of the ground, so you have a large surface stuck onto the ground. Your toes can take advantage of slight lumps, and the sole hugs whatever is down there. The hiking boots are stiff, so I slipped in places I had never slipped barefoot.

Walking over prickly stubble, I suppose I could go faster in hiking boots than barefoot. But speed is rarely a consideration when I am in the mountains. I prefer to hike with my eyes, ears, nose, and feet wide open.

In Which Sister Visits a Brand New Library

The man in the library turned and asked pleasantly, "Are you OK?" I replied, "Yes. Fortunately," with, I hope, an equally pleasant expression. "Thank you," I added (pleasantly), as I regained my seat.

When he first turned to look, I like to think I wasn't lying flat on the floor. Scrambling limberly to my feet, more likely? Whose idea was it, to put these lightweight chairs on rollers?

======
||||||
======
this was written by my sister St Eph. I would like to answer the question she poses in the last sentence: she met him already, and had a short but pleasant conversation with him.

let dogs be dogs
Love is confusing. What do you love for? or rather, what makes you love? Is love understanding, or control?

Consider the love of pets. One of the most asinine clips I've seen on youtube (and there is LOTS of competition) was, unfortunately, filmed right here in Taiwan. Somebody took her golden retriever to Tansui 淡水, and tied the poor animal up right next to the water, sort of like Tantalus and the spring. The dog got free and leapt into the water. The lady shrieked and some fool jumped into the water to 'rescue' it. The poor dog must have been thinking, "$#@%!! I finally got into the water and this &**#@ jerk pulls me back out!"

If you don't know that a golden retriever loves water like squirrels love trees, you shouldn't have one. Last summer I saw someone walking a golden retriever in the rain, and the poor dog was decked out in rain gear. It's a good thing golden retrievers have mild tempers, or else it would have bitten the idiot. I know I felt like biting him.

Notice both examples so far are golden retrievers. There are a lot of them in Taipei. Now think: Taipei is crowded, so there's not much space for these big, lively dogs to stretch their legs out and run and go swimming. If you really loved the dog, you certainly wouldn't raise one in Taipei's compact apartments!

A beagle is another dog that doesn't belong in an apartment. A few weeks ago I saw a beagle being walked, and because the temperature had plummeted to about 22C, the person wrapped the poor beagle up in an coat. If you don't know beagles have strong resistance to cold, you shouldn't own one. You ought to understand your pet.

People seem to own pets for the pleasure of being able to dominate their animal completely, not for the pleasure of letting a dog be a dog.

Not just dogs. We want all of our animals to be Disney-sweet. Cute bears, adorable tigers, sweet hippos, cuddly wolves. Better it would be to respect their natures.

Earlier this month at Sea World in San Diego, a killer whale dragged a trainer to the bottom of the pool. Fortunately the trainer escaped intact, but now the authorities are investigating "why a 5,000 pound killer whale injured a veteran trainer." Excuse me? This is a killer whale, a =||killer||= whale, and the authorities are investigating why it injured somebody? What did they expect it to do, give the trainer a hug and discuss post-feminism, snuff bottles, and string theory? Their time would be better spent investigating why there was anything left of the trainer but buttons and fur.

"During the summer tourist season, the killer whale show is often performed seven times daily." Maybe the killer whale was just sick of the stupid act: I swear, if they make me shoot straight from the water toward suspended cameras one more time, just ONE MORE TIME, I swear I'm going to KILL somebody!!

Ho, ho, YIKES!
In 1982, the members of the Truth Tabernacle in South Carolina hanged a Santa Claus, in protest to the pagan origins of Christmas celebrations. This is an excellent idea worth copying and propagating. Wouldn't that be jolly? A Santa lynched on every lamppost.

You could even sing about it:
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light,
From now on that stupid Santa,
Will be out of sight.
Through the years we put up with enough,
If the fates allow,
Hang a fake Santa upon the highest bough ~~~~
And have yourself a merry Constitution Day now!

Merry Constitution Day. Lynch a Santa for Christ!

有一個很奇怪的問題。昨晚將近十二點，來烏來的遊客放燄火、沖天炮，慶祝聖誕節。我很好奇：他們到底在慶祝甚麼？教徒在教堂慶祝，烏來教會的慶祝禮拜前幾天已經舉行過，肅穆又喜悅；然後深夜到各各泰雅長老家去報佳音。這種慶祝，我了解。可是根本不信基督的人「狂歡」、放燄火，到底在慶祝甚麼？

This morning I heard an eagle perched in a tree near my house calling back and forth with an eagle on high. I'd never heard anything like that.

I tried my best to record it. Be patient.

Jacques Barzun is a writer I hold in highest esteem, from all angles. Several years ago, I bought his Dawn to Decadence, 500 Years of Western Cultural Life. I put it on the shelf to mellow until an appropriate time.

Today I started. Before I even finished the Prologue, I read this paragraph:

"Culture – what a word! …. Now it is a piece of all-purpose jargon that covers a hodge-podge of overlapping things. People speak and write about the culture of almost any segment of society: the counterculture, to begin with, and the many subcultures: ethnic cultures, corporate cultures, teenage culture, and popular culture. An editorial in the New York Times discusses the culture of the city's police department, and an article in the travel section distinguishes the culture of plane travel from the bus culture. One a par with these, recall the split between the 'two cultures' of science and the humanities, which is to be deplored – like the man-and-wife 'culture clash,' which causes divorce. Artists feel the lure – no, the duty – of joining an adversary culture; for the artist is by nature 'the enemy of his culture,' just as he is (on another page of the same journal) 'a product of his culture.' In education, the latest fad is multiculturalism, and in entertainment the highest praise goes to a 'cross-cultural event.' On the world scene, the experts warn of the culture wars that are brewing."

Wonderful stuff! And on the very next page I found something to disagree with. What are margins for, if not to scribble in? Eight hundred pages. I feel like I have sat down to a magnificent feast.

Early in his career, Arnold Steinhardt, first violinist of the Guarneri String Quartet, played a Bach adagio for Pablo Casals === if you don't know Pablo Casals was the greatest cellist ever, I'm not sure what to say to you. My first reaction was, maybe you shouldn't be reading this blog. Then I thought, no, maybe you should be studying every word. Anyway.

When Steinhardt finished, Casals said, "Good, very good." Pause. Then He told a story (hey, if Christians can capitalize He for Jehovah, Casals deserves at least as much). Decades earlier at a restaurant in Budapest, a Gypsy violinist approached Casals, bowed, and played the same Bach adagio better than Casals had ever heard it played. Casals said, "He did not know how one should or should not play Bach, and so he simply played freely and from the heart. You play intelligently and with spirit. Now let yourself go."

From an article about aging techniques to make furniture look like an antique:
"To create flyspecks, dip an old toothbrush in black ink. Carefully rub a toothpick across the bristles to splatter paint for that speckled look."

If I were to spend my time carefully rubbing a toothpick across toothbrush bristles to make something look like it had flyspecks, I would consider myself depraved.
________
||||||||
You probably didn't notice the transubstantiation of ink to paint, either. Read that quote again.

前一陣子，天天有虎頭蜂到書房來，一兩隻。來了，我就送出去，因為牠們好像找不到exit。有一天我想，既然來了，照個相留念吧。

從此以後牠們不來了。

原來是想照相。