Forgiveness and Revenge, Dangerous words: part two

What is forgiveness?
Well Christianity and Islam both preach forgiveness and also have the belief that God can forgive, has the power to forgive, and forgive anything. I remember studying the Abrahamic religions in College and he hammered out the difference with these two, and what Judaism, the root Abrahamic religion, has to say about forgiveness. And it was that a sin is a sin. There was no wiping a sin clean through penance, or confession or anything. God could not forgive Cain for what he did to Abel, because it was not God's place. It was Abel's place, and since Abel was dead, Abel was also unable to forgive Cain.
If we were to look at the Marathon bombings from this perspective, Suspect #2 could conceivably receive forgiveness from those that were still alive for what he did to them, though there is no reason why they should have to forgive. But even if they did, the three that died, are dead and therefore cannot grant forgiveness. And nobody can really forgive in their place.
This type of thinking was difficult to wrap my head around at first, because I grew up in a somewhat Christian/Buddhist culture. What I mean is that I watched a bunch of movies with themes from these religions and heard a bunch of people who were part of these religions speak about forgiveness.

More and more, I do not believe in forgiveness. I believe in compassion, sympathy, and love, but not forgiveness. Some people say forgive and forget. Some people say forgive, but never forget. Forgiveness takes a lot of energy and a lot of people use it as a way to move forward and heal.
I believe in moving forward and healing. But, for instance, you would not forgive a disease or a hurricane. You would not forgive a car accident.

Now I am not with the people that are saying we should hang this guy public execution style Downtown either. Why? That just gives him more power. It would give his memory more power, and his message of hate more power.

I don't believe in Forgiveness. But I don't believe in hate or revenge either. Not to say that I have never had a hateful or vengeful thought. I have. But I try not to. And when I have them I try to think of something else. Because those thoughts are not useful, helpful, or beneficial to me.
We should use all our thoughts to preserve the memories of those that died and those that still need help recovering. All of our energy should go into moving forward and making ourselves stronger.
If you sympathize with the perpetrators, or knew them, then preserve the memory of what they were before they turned into what they turned into. And if you hate them, and curse them and wish them to hell... know that in order to do the things they did, they were already in hell, and full of curses and hate. So don't go down that path. It looks like it only took a little over a year to go from "normal" to follow that path to a point where they were capable of putting bombs in a crowd.

What should this suspect who is still alive do? Not seek forgiveness. But if he were to "see the light" as it were. To try and work from inside your cell in jail or on death row, to prevent others from following your path of hate.
Whatever ever their reasons, there were so many other things they could have done to send a message, so many more powerful and less destructive and evil things they could have chosen besides a bombing.

A Dangerous word: part one

Forgiveness. It is probably a dangerous word to use now, or so I thought before I saw the news this morning. It seems like others are using it too. Anybody that used it after 9/11 was immediately booed or railed against. Though 9/11 was much larger scale so that is understandable.
I think a lot of people, not just me, have been looking at these perpetrators, at the family and finding it difficult to put what they did, with who they were. I wrote before that it would be difficult to look at the act and think that a human could do this. And yet looking at the perpetrators they were human, and very human looking, with other human activities. They didn't look like Ted Kaczynzki or Eric Rudolph, or Hannibal Lecter.
I was talking with someone else, an older woman from Brazil and she mentioned how sad it all was, even how sad it was that the older brother died. I kind of paused because I did not feel sad about that at all. I only felt disappointed because obviously it would be better if they were both brought in alive. The Uncle was just saying on the news that probably they were radicalized by someone local, and that he did not believe that they were working alone. That they were just executors in a plan thought up by another person, or group.
Being a stranger watching it on TV, I would think the same thing. And if it it's not true, you still need to investigate the possibility right?
Then there was the aunt that said they were framed. I don't think so. But I can see why she does. I had complete faith in my government and all the police officers the entire time, but that scene from Fahrenheit 451  kept popping into my mind, where they are chasing down Montague and eventually kill some other guy just to have an ending for everyone watching on TV. I do believe these guys are the guys, and the reason why we don't have real footage of everything that happened makes sense, but I can totally see how the aunt  and the father is skeptical.
I'm 90% sure what I'm seeing on TV is honestly the closest thing to the truth they have.
That being said, it is still unbelievable even if it is true. Does anyone else see themselves in these perpetrators. I kept thinking about the Uncles words. About them being losers. I laughed out loud the first time I heard him say it so angrily. But last night I kept thinking. Wasn't I quiet in highschool? Didn't I have trouble settling into Groton, the prep school I attended? I didn't hate people that succeeded.. I don't think. I tried not to hate anyone, which was difficult and I definitely disliked some people. But nonetheless, I could see myself being classified as a loser. I know others threw me into this category, in highschool, in college, and afterwards. Someone not useful, Someone who wasn't going to make it or be successful. Now for some reason, people would probably classify me as more of a winner, because I live in a house and have two kids. But to myself, I have no job and none of my success has anything to do with any effort put forth on my part. I didn't have my kids. Grace did. I didn't buy this house, Grace did. Now I don't think of myself as a loser. But I do want to accomplish something fr myself. I never had the hatred for citizens in a crowd the way these two brothers seemed to have. But had I been influenced by certain people could I have been radicalized like that? I guess I was a radical Kung Fu practitioner. Which meant that I did a lot of meditation and Kung Fu-ing and Lion Dance. If I had been influenced by a group that was less about that sort of mystical practice and more about hate and terror... but would I have been influenced by those people? I don't think so. But I can't say 100% that it is impossible. Or can't I? I cannot conceive blowing up children. People watching a marathon. Innocent civilians. But then it's not like these two guys invented killing civilians.
It took me a long time to think of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs as completely wrong. Even when I went to Hiroshima I didn't feel the same sorts of sadness and shame that other Americans seem to be writing down in the visitor books. Why? Maybe because even though I am American, I am also half Chinese and was glad to have blood that wasn't just a victim in that war. It wasn't until reading so many Barefoot Gen comics and hearing the story of people, victims, who had nothing to do with the Japanese government, but were the victims of the nuclear bombs that I saw that it wasn't about this country and that country. It was about victims and perpetrators. Killing Children is wrong, no matter who is doing it. Killing civilians is wrong, no matter who is doing it. These Marathon Bombers were wrong, no matter what their worldview that justified it in their minds. And yes, whatever drone strikes or other events that occurred that can be used as an excuse, where children also died, in greater numbers.. those things are also wrong. But they do not justify  anything.  So how do you stop this from happening? Stop it from happening here and over there?

Thieves on the T

Yesterday as I got off at Stonybrook, Noah, causing a ruckus, unstrapped and trying to crawl all over Jonah while I slowly pushed the stroller along, holding him and trying to get him to sit down, I saw a kid in red pants (kid as in teens or twenties) acting weird. Moving around a lot. At first I thought he was flashing someone else. Then he suddenly tried to hide behind one of the signs, like the pole. This was very cartoonish because it doesn't cover your whole body. Slowly I pushed passed him and then saw a woman and a man walking towards me. The man said to the woman, "Someone stole your phone and they ran down here? Okay I see him, it's a kid."
At this point I am past the kid, mr. red pamts, and am putting it together that he stole the phone and is not pretending to hide, but actually trying to hide... behind a pole. The woman flips out, "You have to fight him and get it back."
"No, no Miss" the man tried to get in front of her, "Listen we'll stop the train and they'll call the police-"
"No, don't you understand! He stole my phone, we have to get it back, he stole my phone not yours-"
"Miss it's not worth fighting over," said the man as he tried to stop her and she tried to push past him basically risking her life and his to do so because she almost went onto the tracks. I pushed my stroller and two kids away from the people moving around. The train was coming and the man signaled to the train by waving his arms.
The plan the man had sounded good, but I wouldn't say the situation was "under control" mainly because the woman, the victim, was very adrenalized and forcing up a physical confrontation with Mr. Red Pants. Maybe he had no knife or anything, but there were several things that could go badly still.
I went over to the Emergency call box and said," Some guy stole this woman's phone."
"Are you on the Stonybrook platform?"
"Yes."
"Okay we'll send some help."
The train stopped and didn't open it's doors. I couldn't see what was happening but there was shouting. Noah was jumping up and down pushing the elevator buttons. All the action happened down the platform out of my sight. Eventually a train coming the other direction came and the train that was already there opened it's doors and let people out. Crap! Did the man's plan work? Or was Mr. Red Pants going to get on the train?
"I called TCP(?)" said the announcer from the train, "There are three police officers on their way......Wave your hands to acknowledge." I'm guessing that was to the man and that they had Mr. Red Pants. I could leave... but then another woman came over to the elevator. (Oh btw another guy with his stroller got off the elvator and went over to the situation with his kid, even though I told him something was going down. His choice) The woman pushed the emergency call button. This actually just shut it off, because I had just finished my call.
"Did you call to say that people are fighting?" she asked. I just said yes. I also overheard another group talking saying, "She needs to calm down.. there are too many people around.."
Now I would like to say that the victim the good samaritan and Mr. Red Pants were all various shades of dark. Maybe black, maybe hispanic.
The woman at the call box and the crowd I overheard were white.
I figured I should stay until the police came just to make sure the situation was not "people are fighting" and was, "A guy in red pants stole a woman's phone."
I say the police come.. finally. It felt like a while although the response time might have been considered fast. They walk down putting on sunglasses and preparing their game faces. They can't be everywhere at once, and as fast as they came, the whole incident seemed slow, and a bit absurd. I told them what I saw, and other said overhearing me, "They got him sitting on the floor.." Yep! he's a punk! he said, ' I been to jail before won't be my first time.'" since Mr. Red Pants seemed to be both under control and readily admitting his guilt I just took off. I just didn't want the Good Samaritan to have to explain himself to police.
 Noah continued jumping around and messing with Jonah the entire time. We went to the playground and eventually I saw a Transit Police van come up, the kind capable of transporting someone in the back, and drive off.  Anyway, I've been thinking about the various odd things that happened in that situation. In a way the woman was right to bring it to a fight, because otherwise she might not have gotten her phone back. It did take a while for police to get there, It took the other man and maybe others making Mr. Red pants sit down either through tackling or who knows for him to be apprehended. The police were competent, but they simple cannot be there faster. If they had already been there, Mr. Red Pants would have just not taken a phone then.
On the other hand if the woman had been stabbed or pushed onto the tracks or the Good Samaritan man been stabbed or something, well that would have been extremely stupid over a phone.
Even though I had my kids were with me I tried to do what I could, mainly because if someone tries to rob me on the T when I have my kids with me, I will definitely have to rely on others for help in some shape or form. I also thought how differently the situation was viewed by different people. Some saw an exciting story where the woman was quick and got her phone back from the punk. (These were black witnesses.)
Some saw some black people fighting, one of them being a crazy woman. (These were white witnesses)
I saw a good samaritan solve a problem with his mind, like chess, a teen/twenty something guy try to hide behind a pole when trapped at on a platform... I don't know the whole thing was weird but educational too I guess.

Qing Ming Easter

So I see from facebook posts and from overhearing conversations that Chinese People are doing their Qing Ming, hahng san, grave sweeping. visiting the graves of their ancestors. In my case it would be my parents. I didn't grow up doing this. My dad's ashes were kept right in the house, and then my bedroom. Which I later found out, according to my Sifu, was bad feng shui and would give me bad luck. Even though Han Chinese are supposedly one ethnic group, various villages have their own rules for customs. Some villages just clean the grave site with water. Most Taishanese bring offerings of roast pigs and cooked chickens, the organs still there, as offerings, and wine and incense and paper money, and cakes, and they eat it right there at the gravesite, often accompanied by firecrackers and even drums and lion dance if it is available. I went with my Si Hing in China, tagging along (which was considered okay) and some guys even laid out a mat and started gambling big two as well. I.e. it's a party with your dead relatives. Some villages you have to do it on the Day of Qing Ming. For Sifu's village it can be done anytime, except that exact day. My father's village, I'm not even sure which village he is from. I heard from a family friend that he is from Dongguan ( a city not the local village or town... or maybe it's a town) so that's what we put on the tombstone when we finally buried his ashes along with my mother's. Ironically, after searching for where the hometown was to put on the tombstone, the engravers ended up spelling the name wrong.. in English. He had a phoeneticized version of a Chinese name. Po Yu Cheung. The name on the stone is Bo Yu Cheung. But I guess that doesn't matter as much so long as the Chinese name (which of course I can't actually read except for the family name which is the same as mine.. My father being my father.) is written correctly. Anyway, last year we decided that we would just start doing our Qing Ming, during Easter. In fact, I guess the two holidays are somewhat related. Jesus' disciples and "others" (that's actually what it said in Luke King James version) went to the grave with spices and other stuff. I don't think Jews go every year, at around the same time, it's just that since Jesus had just died they have to go three days later. I could be wrong about that. And lo and behold, he came back to life, and left. For Qing Ming, you go with a bunch of food and paper money to burn  and it is a yearly occurrence. (I read you are also supposed to go for the winter solstice. I heard the Christians with Norse influence do this two) It's like visiting relatives, except their dead. But you bring food, money and gifts, as if they were alive. See kind of like Jesus and Easter. Anyway, the pagan influence on Easter, rebirth, fertility, eggs, shape shifting witches and hares.... actually I don't know much about that but it seems kind of like it could all mix together alright. So last year we tried it. And failed... more on that next entry. We are ging to try again this year anyway.

Irishness- half a drop of blood still counts

I'm really not that Irish. My European blood is probably mostly Polish. The name Peters (my mother's last name) is German. But the thing is, the Irish relatives/ancestors/family were the loudest and so somehow that became the more predominant culture that was past down. When my mother moved to Boston form Philadelphia her Grandmother said, "Well that's okay at least there are a lot of Irish there." My mom sang "The Wearin of the Green" when I was little because her grandmother had forced her to learn it. And I remember when we were digging through the garage at one of my Great aunts' house there was a chest full of family "treasures." One of these treasures, wrapped up in cloth, and paper, was a piece of earth. I do not even know the name of the Irish Ancestor that brought that over when he came to America or even if he was my great grandfather or what, but there it was, handed down from generation to generation, a piece of earth from Ireland. Noah's speech therapist was actually super Irish, from Ireland, and she was telling me how now they sell clumps of dirt in tourist shops and how ridiculous it seemed that people would actually buy such a thing. To tell the truth, I would not be surprised if the dirt they sell was actually made in China.
So it seems weird to bring the a clump of dirt with you nowadays, what with facebook, and airplanes. But back when you had to get on a boat and probably did not plan on coming back, bringing a piece of earth made total sense and as a child I thought it was really cool.
The Irish name of our family is supposed to be Glackin, or something like that. Though I have never heard of anyone Irish with that last name.
Most of the Irish culture I know about actually comes from..... a summer at band camp. When the camp counselor, who was Jewish, was really into the Clancy Brothers. And I became really into the Clancy Brothers too, to the chagrin of my grandmother, who was more Irish than I was.
I only ever met one other person (okay two) who I was friends with that actually listened to Irish music. One was named Devlin. He was pretty Irish-American. But the songs he sang were not the ones that I knew. I.e. not the ones on the CD's I had.
The other was a Korean adoptee named Kieran. His adopted parents were not Irish. But they gave him an Irish name, and one time during an Asian club party, we started singing all these Irish drinking songs. Really two asians, (even though I look white I'm definately more asian than Irish) singing in brogue.
Well, Happy St. Patrick's day people.

Bedtime stories about Ping On

I'm writing this post for a few reasons. First Lai Chan gave me an old photo. I look almost exactly like Jonah, I am at an protest for Oak street, and there is a sign hung around my neck that says, "My Mommy needs Oak Street for English Classes." My mother, born and raised in Philadelphia, who told people she was of German-Irish descent, because that's what she looked like, and who hid that she was Polish (because that was not cool in her neighborhood growing up) and who by death bed confession from Great grandmother found out she was French (the horror! {sarcasm}) did not need English classes. In fact for a woman of her time she was quite educated. She was a chemist before the periodic table had been filled out.
My father, who was partial owner in a gambling house until "too many people won." did not speak English very well. And I don't think he was going to any classes. By the time the picture I was looking at was taken however, he had already passed away. But when people saw my white face with a hint of slant at the eyes, the sign around my neck was what made sense.
So that's the first thing.
The second thing is there was an article in the news yesterday. It was about a white guy who was part of a Chinatown gang. The person writing the article said that this was a difficult thing to accomplish because Chinatown, which is in Boston, which is in America, was a closed society unto itself and that it would be difficult for a white person (like my mother?) to be a part of it.
Finally, the article also had the words Ping On and the word notorious next to each other.
When I first heard these two words together on the street, I cringed inwardly. Because after my father died among the many bedtime stories about the Hobbit, or Robin Hood, their were sprinkled family history, about her, my dad, and also about her travels and my other relatives in Philadelphia. My dad was part of Ping On, before it got "taken down" by the FBI. In fact my mother worked in one of the clubs that was opened by it's members and she spoke a little Chinese. Enough that one time a schmuck of an FBI agent started talking to her and tried to get her to be an informant. He was saying this inside the club, and gave her his card. He only saw a white woman working in this club. He probably didn't realize she was with my dad. She took his card and told one of the brothers (not the blood kind, the other kind) what had happened. He replied by saying, "Oh yeah give him my card I'll tell him if I see any criminal activity." This particular brother was a felon. An example my mom gave was one time she was helping him and this other woman set up a house. Move furniture around etc. She noticed the woman, a Korean American from Providence who my mom didn't really know seemed to keep touching and adjusting herself and didn't really seem to care that there were other people in the room. My mom thought that was odd. Later she realized that the woman was a prostitute and that she had just set up a temporary brothel.
Was my mom part of this world? Not really. At least she didn't feel so. She complained that they never let her into the gambling halls. No women allowed. But she knew of another woman that was allowed in there to gamble. When she said this to my dad he would say something along the lines of "that's different." My mom felt left out. Not that she wanted to gamble. Just that she wanted to be part of the club. For the same reason she was mad that as a girl her Uncle would take her brother to the boxing fights in Philadelphia, but she never got to go.
Did my dad get in trouble with the police? My mom says that about once a week, walking home she would see Baba in the back of a patty wagon because the police had raided the gambling house (usually without warrants or for whatever reason it always came to nothing) It just meant that he would be late getting home.
"If you're son ever has to see you in the back of a wagon like this!.. " well so that "job" stopped. Sort of.
She would tell me about how the Ping On kids used to do lion dance on new years but just banged on the drum and didn't even have a head and had shirts with the words "Ping On" on it in big English letters and that my Dad made them take the shirts off before the Police saw and scolded them about it. She told me about how those kids used to regularly borrow her van, having gotten permission from my Dad. But then when they came to her she would yell at them because whatever they went and did with that van, they never filled the gas tank back up. So they would run back and fort between my dad at the gambling house and my mom at the apartment asking one and then the other.
But most of all she would tell me about the time the electricity went off in Chinatown for two weeks. The police wouldn't come to Chinatown. So "Ping On" had people stand outside the businesses to make sure there was no looting. She would then say she saved the articles that demonized the gang, and while she was sure there were terrible crimes committed, people killed, that that wasn't the whole story. The way my mom told it,my dad and others like him were like the Knights of the Round table. Propaganda to boost my youthful opinion of my late father to be sure. But still, I thought I would share it.
"With working at the restaurant and the money coming in form the gambling your dad almost made as much as a white guy." She said.
And then when the gang was "taken down" my mom said she saw the same people on the street, doing the same things, just using a different name. So that FBI take down was all for show to boost a few egos of some young agents but they didn't actually accomplish anything.
Is Chinatown better now? yes. But not because of one big take down. Chinatown is better now because more white people, more white women, and more asians with money live in it. At first my mother viewed gentrification and the building of University Campuses right in Chinatown with suspicion too. But the results were, students walking around which made for safer and friendlier streets. But more about that later.

Recover Fu

So after my fasting day (not by choice but a gift from whatever food poisoning I received from the Olive Garden) I was not immediately able to jump up and do hard external Kung Fu for my workouts. In fact for a little while I got tired from walking and chasing the kids around. So I focused more on internal, meditation, that sort of thing. And I've been liking it. I think I will stick to my easy does it practice, with some finger pushups and some pullups thrown in there. One at a time, just as a little spice instead of as the staple grain or main course.
I've been thinking too, about what I want. Having watched Kung Fu Panda, sick, I was thinking my fantasy would be to have a school like that, in a valley like that. But then I thought about it more and realized that is a lot of stairs to climb or to descend just to go somewhere. I guess it's okay if you can fly up or down like a cartoon character. So maybe vene if I could have that Palace, I don't necessarily want it.
I think I'm just going to start referring to the Sugar Bowl which is currently green and muddy, as the Jade Palace. And that little pond across from it, not Jamaica Pond but the tiny secluded one where there is  alittle stream and almost a sort of beach. That's going to be the sacred pool of tears.
If I call them these things I guess in a way they become them, and so just like that i have the Jade Palace as a Kung Fu school. It's next to my house, and it requires no stairs.
Ahhh.. that was easy.
As for practicing, running around in the rain or snow in the middle of the night or day, I'll have to wait for the kids to both be in school, or old enough to join me to do that.
Being sick and dehydrated made me realize another thing. That I don't drink enough water when I practice super hard. And that's probably one of the reasons I get so sore. I found this out, because doing nothing but vomiting all day...I got pretty sore.
So when I finally have the time or freedom to travel to the Jade Palace or Pool of Sacred Tears again, either alone, or with children that are well dressed for the weather and who can walk by themselves, while obeying Baba, when it comes to watching out for traffic etc. I'm going to be bringing a big water jug with me. Maybe two. That way I can use them like weights to punch with. And then I can also drink out of them.
For now though, I just do Horse stance next to my sleeping son if I can't sleep, and then some Mein Lay jum in the morning when I wake up. Its simple and not too much. Enough for now.