A Short Story: A World Beyond My Perceptions

Year 2036.  With the candlelight placed next to my journal, I write about a place. A place so far away. Far away.

Darkness. I cannot see anything but darkness with my bare eyes. My arms, my hands, cannot seem to clutch on to anything. I've seemed to have been free-falling endlessly into a vortex, a trap with no way out. A gravitational force seems to be pulling me to a different dimension, a different world. After what seems to feel as if ages have passed, an intangible force suddenly throws me into an unfamiliar atmosphere. Thump! I slide onto ice, hard land. Wait, it is just pure land painted completely white. I slowly stand, turn my head in all directions, and glance at my strange surrounding.  Panic suddenly strikes me. I shut my eyes tightly, near paralyzed at what I have just seen.  So surreal.   I slowly lift my eyelids, once again.  Complete pale, white.  The sky. No there is no sky. No trees.  No signs of life, except for my solitary self. The land is covered with the color white.  Completely blank.  I do not know if I am even walking on land.  Where am I? Am I in heaven?  A bright, piercing light from a distance shines from a distance. I held my arm up against my forehead to shun the bright light from stabbing my eyes. A voice seems to be calling me. "Come this way, I will lead you."

Should I believe it or run away?  I need to find a way back home.  This place though not confined is yet another gigantic replica of a trap that emanates claustrophobic vibes. No, it may not be so.  It is just my imagination.  Breathe. Breathe.  As I slowly advance towards the light, I begin to sense a force is pushing me forward.  When I try to back up with hesitance, I realize that the spatial surrounding behind me has solidified into clear ice.   Panic suddenly strikes me that I must quickly compose myself and hasten my pace to escape.  I run towards the light.  But no matter how hard I try, it seems like I just could not get any closer.  Running out of breath and gradually losing the energy to push myself any further, I slip and fall and fall unconscious for a fleeting moment.  I slowly find the energy to unpeel my eyelids and the courage to stand back up.  I lift myself up with the palms of my hand against the ground, but as I look up, I see a motherly figure stand before me lending her hand to me.  I reach up to grab onto her hand.  Who is she? As soon as I stand up, the figure that was only inches away from me suddenly disappears into a shadow.  "Wait!" I yelp. I try to grab onto the remnants of the shadow, but it is too late.  

When I finally reach the light, I find myself warping into a shangri-la.  What is this place?  It seems so far away. Very far away. A place beyond my imagination. Everything in front me is unbelievable. A sudden gust of wind blows against my fast as I find my balance on the vast grassland.  This is no ordinary grassland or is it a prairie?  As I breathe in the crisp, clean air, I sense nostalgia.  Where am I? I questioned myself.  Am I still in the present........past.........or...or.. the future?  I could not tell which dimension I am in at all.  This place just seems so strange yet so familiar.   

I keep wandering. For miles and miles.  Suddenly, the motherly figure reappears and walks towards me.  She wears wrinkles on her face and is dressed in a simple beige robe.  Her hair was tied into a braid with strands of white, smooth hair.
    "Who are you?" I asked.
    "I am your Guidance," she responds with a soothing voice.
    "What is this place?  Why am I here?" I say worriedly.
    "You are lost, my child.  Let me guide you," she reassures me.
     "But... but," I hesitate, " I do not even know you, stranger. Where are you from?"
     "Call me Guidance.  I am from this place. This place you have found.  I am assigned to guide you. Do you mind walking with me as I show you to your destination."   
     She then glances at me with her deep, profound eyes.  "Don't worry, you will be fine."  
As we walk, a musical sound begins to play in the surrounding grassland.  The sound seems to be produced by a wind instrument.
     "What is this sound....or music?"  I ask the old lady.
     "It is the folktale in this community.  Let me sing to you to calm your heart."
And she begins.

There is a place. A place that is very very far away.  
There is also wind there.  There is also a very old piece of grassland.
The proud mother's eyes are so deep and profound.
Her voice so tender and mild.
Ulan Bator's Night...is so quiet, so beautiful.
Warm songs resound gently, rustling winds  gently blow.
Ulan Bator's Night...is so quiet, so beautiful.
The singer should not shed tears.

There is a place.  A place that is very very far away.
That place has a deep yearn for people so dear to you.
People of this grassland are carefree.
They would like to drink and with glee.
Ulan Bator's Night...is so quiet, so beautiful.
You are so far from me, but seems so near.

Ulan Bator's Night...is so quiet, so beautiful.
Listeners of this song are not allowed to shed tears.

The sound level of the music gradually fades away.  I turn and then ask the old lady, "Guidance, what is this song about and why did you sing it to me?"

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

Who?

As the sun sets upon the streets, I often see an aged man.

He wanders and stop; talking to himself, he must be lost.

Some say he has been waiting for his lover; however, he has been lonely for so many years.

Some say he has been looking for his children for many years.

Who knows who he is?

Who knows who he is looking for?

Once again, with the winds blowing through the bitter cold, the sun sets upon people rushing along the streets.  

I see him again, but this time, he is wearing even more wrinkles like the wind withering away the youth of a tree.

He follows along with the crowd like a child stumbling, losing balance.

Then...gradually, he slows his foot steps and looks ahead of him, his expression filled with panic.

Who knows who he is?

Who knows of his whereabouts?

Suddenly, the wild wind howls.

In a blink of an eye, the streets are empty.

A dear friendship

The merciless rain, the ruthless wind

have swept away the dear friendship between us.

A lonely shadow appears in the drizzling rain before dawn. Your story has taken a rest mark. 

When I think about your wanderings in an unknown realm, I see you holding back endless tears of pain.

Your heart is full of yearnings.

Thinking about it hurts me deeply in the heart.

If you want to cry, please do so.

My clothes is your handkerchief.

If you are tired, if you cannot walk anymore, I will carry you on my back for life. Unfortunately, all is late.

I anguish over your unjust sufferings and my inability to help you bear your burdens.

I am wistful of walking by your side until forever.  Our dear friendship is deep and difficult to part.

If I could own every tomorrow,

I will make promises to you that I will not regret.

My love for you will live forever.

The World Outside

Long, long ago, you were mine, I was yours.

Long, long ago, you left me, spread your wings to fly on your own.

The world outside is filled with exciting challenges.

Yet the world outside is filled with matters beyond your grasp.

When you realize your ability to achieve the challenges, I will be standing here truthfully giving you my full support and encouragement.

Everyday when the sun sets on the west, I will be standing here expecting you.

When you realize the obstacles encountered are beyond your grasp, I am stilling here patiently waiting for you to overcome them.

Though the sky is drifting with rain, I will  still be standing here waiting patiently for your eventual return.

I will  still be standing here waiting patiently for your eventual return.

(A simple yet meaningful translation: 外面的世界）

The Snowing Cherry Blossoms

When spring is gone, what is left of the sadness behind me?

I often see my former self,

making decisions thoughtlessly.

And not knowing the reason why I continue to latch on to my stubbornness.

Redemption 

A sudden gush of wind blows against my face. As I turn around, I see pink cherry blossoms falling like snow against the breeze.

The wind continues to blow, blowing my foolishness, my unrestrained indulgences.

Amelioration.  

My broken memories continue to drift like the snow-like palest pink petals. They are filled with distant nostalgia that are no longer tangible and cannot be seen with the bare eyes. Who are the loved ones who are still lingering in my thoughts?

Acceptance.

I continue to walk along this path of cherry blossom trees.......

Home

今天突然很想回家. 最近每個週末都會出去散散心.  一向獨來獨往的我看著滿街都是人.  看見一家人開心得共進午餐.  看見一群朋友從戲院走出來歡樂的笑聲. 已經很久沒有和家人朋友好好得聚聚.  「家」這個字對我來說很遙遠，幾乎觸碰不到.  雖然在台灣收獲很多也學習到了許多累積了教學經驗，今天我任然覺得這個島還是那麼得陌生.  我的「家」只能用想像力來安慰自己. 家的新鮮空氣，熟悉環境， 還有我搞笑的哥哥，表姊妹弟們，還有我的寶貝狗狗. 繼續等待........回家的那天.  在一年兩年，不知道.....

Chapter 5: A New Picture - "Infinitism"

A new beginning. A new place to seek refuge in the mind and soul.  Wandering thoughts have long dissipated.  I have picked up my pencil once again.  Am moving on and putting my acquired knowledge into use.  My canvas is no longer white.  It is filled with different shades. I have begun this piece of artwork a year ago.  Though it has not reached completion, it has been titled "Infinitism."  

Art is everywhere. Everything we do is an art.  Teaching is an art.  An art that calls forth internal and external transformation in light of knowledge, creation, and wisdom.  Every word I instruct - verbal and written.  The effective dialogue created with the students. Understanding the efficacy and conduciveness of the material designed for students.  All elements elegantly weaved together form a work of art.  

I am still polishing this art. This picture I have chosen to paint is an unending process.  Frustration. Sleepless nights.  Endless contemplation, analyzation, synthesis, and self-evaluation. Incessant self-reflecting in my instruction, curriculum/material design, test design, and collaboration with colleagues.  All contribute to shaping students into effective, active, and independent learners.

Have I changed? Am I exhibiting more conviction in what I do? Have I ascended one level higher in terms of improving onself? I ask myself these questions  everyday. I try not to let my doubts inhibit my ultimate goal in helping the students become successful learners.  

Teaching ELLs continues to be a challenging task for all of us, but the greatness about specializing in this art is having the opportunity to witness the students acquire the English language, each taught with instructions tailored to their needs and personality.  

           Seeing shy learners blossom into active participants, asking endless questions.  

           Seeing learners string meaningful words together into sentences, paragraphs, and essays.

           Seeing learners attempting to read and comprehend a novel.

This new picture ........I believe is a turning point - a life-changing moment allowing me to answer my inner queries about my purpose here on Earth.