Happiness

The Chinese seek happiness in colors, characters, statues, temples, and highway underpasses. This morning I went to Heaven’s Temple, definitely a place one goes to find happiness. And happiness I and others did.

There were hoards of dancers, singers, ti chi artists, clappers, hacky sack players, and more. In the vast park area of this temple hundreds, most likely thousands of retired people throng to whatever it is that brings their heart delight. Watching them brought smiles, laughter, and eternal bliss to my soul.

I especially enjoyed watching the tango dancers. Such precision and pose. Such perfection in their movements, that I typically and falsely attributed to young bodies, yet these masses of wrinkled joy were showing me otherwise. Not surprisingly there were more women then men, so they coupled together or danced solo gracefully across the parks open spaces, and this gave me comfort towards the future. It was so cute too to see the newbie’s to dance, mouths moving to keep count and track of the moves. No old dogs here that can’t learn new tricks.

Later that evening in a new city, 1000s of kilometers away, there was still dancing and singing. This time however the beautiful back drop of the trees, temple, and grass was replaces by honking horns, flashing billboards advertising gambling, and tons of concrete.

As I walked home from dinner, in the distance I heard soft music and realized there were five woman practicing Ti Chi under the highway overpass at dusk. I clapped my hands and ran over to try and capture it on film from a polite distance. I stood marveling at these women and their dedication to health and self, their ability to create inner peace in the middle of an industrial and busy business district. As I headed back towards the hotel, the strains of a symphony playing Jingle Bells tickled my ears. I wondered if some parade was happening, and I quickly chased the sound to the another island of concrete under the highway.

As I neared the director was giving notes to his players, explaining the next piece they would play-wafting his attention from the horns to the reeds. The audience formed a circle around the symphony, all eyes on the director, all ears listening to the players, all hearts eager to remain open to the magic of music in the misty moonlight.

The man I was standing next to looked over at me, and then swung his head back in shock as he realized I was not from around here. I grinned and whispered, “Nee How” and he return my greeting with a large smile and vigorously nod of approval. My heart swelled.

Soon I scooted to a space in the front and squatted down right next to the clarinet player and busted out my camera to capture the sights that would later trigger melodic memories. Old and young faces peppered the crowd, while only wrinkled hands and lips created the harmony under the concrete jungle paths above.

I laughed at my own foolishness, and the tireless efforts of the universe to teach me. It had been three long days since being on an organized tour in China, and I couldn’t escape the feeling of being a caged bird. My wings had been clipped, my voice only grated those around me, and I was quickly falling into a pit of my own making. After all, I was the honored one here, and in China that is saying a lot.

Months ago my parents had delighted me with the news that they would come and meet me on my travels. China was the place and my mother vigilantly began making arrangements, getting the advice of her friends, and organizing a trip of a lifetime for us to share. The love and happiness I felt every time I thought, bragged, or talked of our meeting in China somehow escaped ruthlessly the first morning of the tour when our first stop took us to a overcrowded site filled with tourists and noise. I wanted to be grateful and pleased, but instead a snotty insatiable teenager took over, and my eyes seemed to keep rolling back as my arms were firmly crossed across my chest.

And here in front of me was beauty, joy, and happiness in the most unlikely of places: under the overpass of a highway, on an island of concrete with cars zooming by on either side.

Happiness is created. Happiness is the gift your own heart, hand, and head provide you, if you are willing to take it, create it, and have it.

I get to be in China. I get to travel. I get to be with my parents. I get to be loved by them. I get to be happy. If only I will. I get it….I hope.