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(School of Chinese Languages in Melbourne and Sydney)
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From our previous newsletter
(Vol7No3):
A PILGRIMAGE, A SOUL JOURNEY
Winter is here, can spring be far behind?
The English poet, Shelly, springs to my mind this fine winter
morning with his immortal words ringing in my ears.
As I write this, the sky of Melbourne is pale blue tinged with
white clouds and a very reluctant sun is trying to come out.
There is a certain beauty in bare trees.There is a silent joy
in seeing little children rugged up in balaclavas and scarfs,
their little faces pink with cold. Little feetbeing marched off
to school. All this I see with new eyes having been away for
the past few months on a pilgrimage that began in an ashram in
India and ended with a seven day writers retreat in a Benedictine
abbey on the banks of the McKenzie River in Portland, Oregon.
The ancients have always taken pilgrimages. A pilgrimage is a
journey taken to visit sacred places. Pilgrims like those in
Chaucers' Canterbury Tales, have always met with great adventures
along the way. My pilgrimage was also full of adventures, meeting
new faces and visiting strange places, like New York where people
didn't smile or look at each other in the eye. For three days,
I wandered the streets and subways of New York, deliberately
alone but not lonely. All the time I had a familiar feeling and
could not name it.On the third day, it came to me. New York is
Hong Kong. No difference. In Ganespuri, India, I saw yet again
young women and children working in the hot sun, breaking rocks
with bare hands. Most of them were bonded labourers. Nothing
had changed much since my last trip ten years ago. Suffering
has a familiar face. Nothing new or strange about it. In San
Francisco I stayed with a community of Chinese Catholic nuns.
I slept on an old mattress in the basement with two cats. I am
allergic to cats' fur. I reverted to being a Chinese and suffered
in silence. I tried to meditate hard and visualise away the cats
using accelerated learning techniques. When I opened my eyes,
the cats had not moved an inch from the warm mattress. San Francisco
can be cold at nights. As a pilgrim, I had to take my lessons
where they are offered. The lesson I learnt about cats is don't
let them into your room. And definitely don't stay with frugal
Catholic Chinese nuns. Perhaps it was in Ireland that I learnt
my greatest lesson. Driving in a rented car through out the length
and breath of Ireland with Danny Boy humming in my unconscious,
I felt the Celtic connection with each heart beat. Like the Chinese
taoists, the Celtic heritage is holistic, linking the head,heart,
and soul. Yes, a pilgrimage is a soul journey. Our soul does
not understand nor want facts and figures. Soul food is music,
poetry, love and for the Irish, a few pints of guinness. In the
pubs of Ireland, in the lilting voices of the Irish, in the laughter
of their eyes, I learnt that when your soul is happy, you can
be poor, when your soul is merry, you can be cold, when your
soul is at peace, you can let happiness and love flow freely
to others. In San Jose, meeting up with old friends, Eileen Ong
and Peter Osmond (ex-student of ACCS), and staying in their palatial
home, I learnt that it is important to make time for friends.Friendship
is balm for the soul. As Eileen said, there is an ache in the
soul, a longing for friends, talking about common interests,
laughing and recalling old jokes and eating and drinking. Throughout
my pilgrimage, I also learnt to use cyber cafes and thank you
to all of you who kept me up to date about the outside world.
Happy Spring term, my little darlings.
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