Formosan spirit

With each passing night , walking around in short sleeves and trousers has unexpectedly become like an childish attempt to catch a cold. While riding the MRT, I noticed that some trees have putting on a yellow, and even red, coat. It's Autumn , and one season has already passed since I set foot on this island. That day, seemed like yesterday. Where did all that time go? The moon tonight was almost perfectly round, exactly one month since I last wrote. Looking back, at that angry entry, those feelings on Mid-Autumn festival seem so distant. I've been away, originally the plan was for a couple of days, but eventually it turned into weeks, and now back again. Full circle, back to where I started. A journey, into the mountains, into the heart of Taiwan, and in some ways, into myself.

After coming back from Japan early September, I was again lost in that state of not knowing what to do. The days went by quickly, filled with much wasted time staying indoors. Sleep, TV, food and surfing the web filled my days. Gone were the motivations I had at the beginning of the summer, those plans of mine to conduct a fruitful research here in Asia seemed like distant memories, yet all the while promises and expectations of those around me echoed. Then one day mum suggested there is somewhere I could go, somewhere where I might 'learn a thing or two'. And so off I went, to Puli (埔里).

I didn't know what to expect, except that there would be an American bhikku (monk) of the Theravada Buddhist tradition, and a publishing house waiting for me. All were strange at first, and mum knows of the place only barely from the Buddhist meditation class she attends on Fridays. With some doubt, fringing on fear, I left home.

The natural beauty around Puli took my doubts away. With mixed emotions, I entered a place where exactly six years ago the devastating 921 earthquake (September 21, 1999) scarred the mountains and lives of many people. But gone are the crumbled buildings from , the bare mountains, crying orphans, gone are the terrible images I've seen on the news...In their stead, a thriving town, really down-to-earth people and a landscape of green greeted me. Pictures can only describe the beauty of a mere moment of an everchanging natural painting captured through the lens of my camera.

The first day passed slowly, as I made myself used to the place...or rather, the place got used to me. A tale of a 'city-boy' out and about in the countryside. Without me knowing, those two imposing mansions perched half-way up a mountain, overlooking the plains below were to be my 'home' for the next three weeks to come. That first night when I went to bed, I lay in bed listening to the symphony composed by the creeking of insects, the croaking of toads, and the occasional background support by faceless creatures of the night. At times, I must admit, I woke up in the middle of the night, wondering what or who may be next to me... The silhouettes of betel nut trees towered above me like a collection of witches' brooms. Somehow, the dark and rugged outline of the mountains outside my bedroom window seemed calming to look at in the dead of the night. It's true, now that I look back, what they say about the only thing that you have to fear is fear itself...

Much simple, yet benficial attitudes of living I've ingested in the past weeks. I can still hear the echo of the words 'mindful!' coming from the good reverend. He constantly reminded me to attentive and concentrated in whatever I did. With the same effort and time, why not do something mindfully? Why not do it well, and do it with pleasure? A mindful action, or even a mindful word, is a simple attitude, but it takes practice. Especially when you're feeling irritated, frustrated, distracted by sadness or even joy, people tend to be more careless and less mindful. The mindfulness routine never ends, and begins the moment you wake up, until the moment you sleep.

After a while, time seemed to become meaningless, and for a long time I've never felt I made use of a day to such a full extent. All those times I spent doing chores, talking with the 'locals', seeing strange and spine-tingling creatures for the first time, and getting to experience a different side of life would forever be unique moments for me...but most of all, I tried, probably for the first time in my life, to live life at the present moment. I tried to forget all those people, events and places behind and ahead of me, and instead, tried to take each moment as it came and went. It's difficult, especially since I always seem to have a million thoughts rush through my head at any given moment...'thoughts' may be understating it; it's more like fears, questions, doubts, silent voices and dialogues with my inner mind. The trick is, as I learnt, to concentrate on the task at hand, not to let the mind wander, for only then will one be at peace. It was a life of little worries (as I now realise, compared to the life I've just returned to here in Taipei), a life composed of manual labour, rest and 'play' (a relaxing shower, followed by a warm cup of tea and a DVD...), and all the while there were plenty opportunities for me to discover another world beyond that of study and work (in the conventional, 'modern-capitalist-society' sense). And it was also a chance for me to discover others, to interact with others, to try and observe people's actions and words, so as to improve my own.

So my 'retreat' into the mountains ended two days ago.
The question which begs to be answered awaits an answer...what now?