China: Peace Like a River in Coronavirus times...

 "Be still like a mountain, and flow like a river." --Lao Tzu Tung

"I choose to listen to the river for a while, thinking river thoughts, before joining the night and the stars."  

                                                             --Edward Abbey

"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of these drops are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters."

                         --Norman MacLean in A River Runs Through It

We have walked more than a hundred miles in the last few weeks on the Haihe shores.

Since we are living here in China during "coronavirus times," we must occasionally leave our homes to have peace near our river--specifically the Haihe River in Tianjin, China. Parks are closed, and a lake that we fondly call our own is often not permissible to walk around. However,  there are a few people like us in this town of 17 million that gather on this beautiful, historical Haihe River. I have found it is where we can revive our strength and breathe in the beauty to go back and face the virus that surrounds us. 

I have never seen a place where people love to fish more than in Tianjin, China. Often you will see a lone person with their fishing pole, other times it will be a larger, louder gathering. Fishing takes people's minds off the coronavirus for a few happy moments. They are at peace with their river.

There are not many of us who come out of our houses (In Tianjin, it is allowed to leave your homes, but everything is closed and there are no gatherings in homes), but in the last month, we have watched this river give peace in a time of turbulence, offer strength in a time of uncertainty. The Haihe is called "The mother river of Tianjin" leading to the sea--gathering five rivers to its side to become one with it. It has become a new home to me--a place where my "river thoughts" trickle out. 

I have learned rivers are endless, constant givers. When thick ice threatens to block natural ebbs and flows, undercurrents incrementally force the obstructions away. Sometimes we have seen boats come out to crunch and break up the ice so the river can move forward again, rushing onward. Often someone needs to be the one to be in the boat crunching the ice so the water can flow again. Rivers have seasons--even within a day--and each moment can show different lights, ripples, and occasionally a near stillness. I am continually awed by rivers.

Some city workers breaking up the ice of the Haihe River. Within a few moments, the slated ice is broken up into shards and blocks.

Just a few hundred yards from this scene the boats are coming to break the great ice slabs in a puzzle of pieces--allowing the river to flow again.

During this "coronavirus time," I have walked over a  hundred miles along the Haihe River shores--back and forth--taking in the beauty and the lessons "the mother river" offers. We have watched clusters of fishermen, a few skaters, boaters, and even swimmers try its waters. Birds congregate here for their reunions. Families and loved ones hold hands as they watch their river flow, freeze, thaw, and then flow again. Sometimes the waters are swift, other times still. The Haihe River has become our sanctuary where we can forget the worries of this country for some moments. 

The Haihe reminds me to remember that life is meant to be like a rushing river. We are not meant to stay still for too long. The Haihe froze over for about two months, and you could see ice fishermen with their potched holes all over the river. Yet, eventually, the river beckons to break open again--to move from its source to its destination. Just like an unresolved grudge or quarrel left dangling, our own hearts yearn to burst forward and free--carrying all the dross to the sea. Rivers continually move, not allowing the snags to impede their flow. And they don't turn around again; they don't have time. There is too much water to carry to the sea to be concerned with turning backward. 

Being in this cocoon of time with the coronavirus has taught me lessons on how I want to live--to be like a river, being willing to twist and turn with the bend. A river seeks to move, unafraid of the tides or swings--the next chapter. And a river will not only bring you along with its momentum but it will move everyone and everything forward too. You all move onward together--leaving no one behind. Rivers make me realize I don't want to get stuck in any swirling eddies, but to get on the journey to move forward to the sea. 

I have loved winding rivers like the Mississippi, Missouri, Hudson, and Snake--far away from China. But now I love the Haihe. More than ever, rivers were meant to keep rollin' along...

The view from our fifth-floor apartment looking down to the frosted shoreline.

A few days later, with all the obstructions cleared away--providing an outlet to "our lake" beyond.

China and the Coronavirus

This is a family a few days ago in the park--all four generations. They are fortunate to spend time with family this year, as many families were not able to travel. Linking the generations is very important to Chinese people--including them in their lives. One of the reasons I really enjoy Tianjin is that it is a very family-oriented place. People are always talking about and visiting their families. Many young people prefer to stay in Tianjin, near their family, in favor of going to Beijing or Shanghai. 

It snowed yesterday here in Tianjin, China yesterday with the biggest snowflakes I have ever seen come floating down past the skyscraper where we live. It was like someone shook a down pillow of feathers and sprinkled them around our city. The morning was one of awe and wonder for all of us. I loved watching some kids play outside, knowing they have been in their homes for almost two weeks. People came out to take photographs. They were smiling and chatting as they walked around the lake where we live, marveling at the beauty of the birds gliding on the ice. A little change of scenery did us all good, as people bounded out, with smiling faces, to see the snow--not many people, just a few of us who needed a break from our four walls. Everyone was looking as cheerful and optimistic as possible.

Tianjin, a city of close to 17 million, is essentially closed to contain the coronavirus. The malls, factories, streets, schools, restaurants, and businesses are all shut down--waiting for the coronavirus to subside. Tianjin is a beautiful city with wide tree-lined boulevards and rivers running through it. But few people are outside to enjoy the snow or clean air this week. I can't bear to stay in all day so it has been interesting to be outsiders looking in--walking the streets of this historic city. We are not being repatriated to the US, as many friends; my husband directs a hospital here. He delivered a baby girl today. Life goes on...

As we walk around the city, there is evidence of incredible efficiency and management--something the Chinese are very good at. No one can manage a crowd of a few thousand people like a couple of Chinese policemen. There is structure and organization wherever you look. When we walk around the lake near our home, you can hear messages to wear masks and take care of your health and safety. Every hour the elevator is cleaned in our building, with a chart to have it signed off. A box of tissues was glued up to the wall of the elevator that was not there yesterday. My friend's elevator has toothpicks for people to push the elevator button. Luckily, the markets are open for a few hours daily, and I was able to get some bottled water today. So far everything in this city is working, humming along. I have to marvel at the commitment to essentially stop almost everything in order to obliterate the coronavirus.

One thing to remember is that these last few weeks are the most important time of the year for the Chinese--to celebrate the new year together with family. The day after the first day of the New Year's it is the tradition to go and visit your great uncle and second cousins. It is like taking away the equivalent of American Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's for them. Everyone's lives are being upended or modified in some way. But the most important thing is that it is being done with lots of grace and acceptance. The hospitals are busy, and the commitment to overcome the current health crisis is strong. As the Chinese say when things get tough, "Pour the oil," which means you need to provide the fuel and energy to solve a problem.

Everyone is doing their part in this big society in a time of crisis for their country. I have to say I am impressed. But I will be excited to see everyone's faces again without their masks. It is harder for me to understand their Chinese with their mask on...

The most popular park in Tianjin called, "The Water Park" is closed to anyone coming in. The man in the mask is a guard.

We like walking along the Haihe River, with its many bridges and famous Ferris wheel. 

If you plan on going anywhere--to a mall, store, anywhere, plan on getting your temperature taken. This is at the entrance of a hospital.

Some older people helping to clean the walks in the park when it snowed. There were lots of volunteers to help clean the sidewalks everywhere. China is a very efficient place. They know how to galvanize people to get things done!

"How will you measure your life?"

It's actually really important that you succeed at what you're succeeding at, but that isn't going to be the measure of your life."--Clayton Christianson

"I am done with great things and big plans, great institutions, and big successes. I am for those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual, creeping through the crannies of the world like so many rootlets, or like the capillary oozing of water, yet which, if given time, will rend the hardest monuments of human pride." --William James 

My people...

Last week one of the foremost business thinkers of our time, Clayton Christianson, died in Boston after many years of some health problems. A few years ago my daughter worked at Harvard Business School, where he taught, and she would see him passing in the halls and say hello. At that time I read his book by the same title of this blog, How Will You Measure Your Life? With a new calendar year, I had been thinking about his insights recently. Then, I heard of his passing and realized that I needed some solo soul time.

With the beginning of a new year, a new decade, (and I have come back to China to live again). I was thinking about what I would use to measure a wonderful life--one that will bring not only happiness but deep peace and satisfaction. How does that happen? What constitutes a meaningful life? And what are the metrics that measure that? My Blog on how ancient Egypt measured their life in "Egypt: Time and Immortality"

Most recently I have been thinking about becoming and how to get to the place we want to be. How we get to a destination is almost as important as finally arriving. Taking the time to reflect on how all those minutes we have each day are actually spent is important. I am convinced the decisions in those hours and days as the years accumulate shape us in profound ways. I believe as we ultimately measure our life, our path must be intentional if we want it to be successful. There are no short cuts, no royal road--just continuing to paint all the strokes on the painting. And then viola, there is a gorgeous masterpiece we created.

When I was 23, I listed my goals for the next five years in a ragged book. Once and a while (not nearly as often as I should have) I reviewed these written goals.  Since they were written, they were also subconsciously etched in the back of my mind. I was a little shocked when I came upon that book many years later and realized I had achieved every one. They were not unsurmountable, but each took some planning, adjusting, and work. I honestly believe it is very unlikely I would have been successful if I had not written them down or at least reflected upon those goals. These kinds of aspirations are the "checklist" variety. What about the goals that are the very most important that lack a simple qualitative measure--like developing loving relationships or fostering a personality that can nourish those who depend on you. Empathy and compassion are vital and exceptionally difficult. So again, how do we measure these critical capacities?

Since I am a person of faith, my relationship with God is very important to me. (I liked what Christianson said, "I don't only want to believe in God. I want to believe God). Furthermore, I determined I wanted people, relationships, and family to be a high barometer (the metrics of focus) on my scale of happiness. Also, I hoped to make the world a little better--all three things most everyone in this world wants from the allotment of time we are given to breathe on this earth. Essentially, we are given time, and we must measure our days and years to make make sure they eventually matter.

Years ago I had the chance to learn this seminal lesson from my sister-in-law, Joan Shumway Erickson, who was battling cancer, a struggle that would take her life. She was a young mom, age 34, with four children. I had two little girls and was expecting a son. We had both just moved to Los Angeles, and knew very few people. Consequently, in the last year of her life, I concentrated on being with her. There were not many other people she knew so I committed to being with her as much as possible. 

She spent the last six out of the nine months of her life in a hospital--trying to do anything to save her life. Since the hospital was not too far from our apartment, I went to see her almost daily. Consequently, it was in the sanctuary of a hospital room I spent some of the most important and shaping conversations of my life. Our conversations still linger in my heart.

We were both young, but she was traveling a new and unknown portal--where I was far behind on the path. So I listened as she spoke about her dreams. Gradually, she knew and accepted many desires that would not happen in this life. In those conversations, the curtain of what really mattered began to open for me. All of a sudden I got it. I understood with clarity what she was telling me: it was in relationships--her family and individual interactions--these would be the barometer of her success. Although she had been the commencement speaker at her university and achieved many honors of life, those were not her yardstick of an accomplished life.

While she was a person of little conflict, a few times I was in her hospital room as she called someone to make sure there was a feeling of peace between them in their relationship. She repeatedly called people to let them know of her love for them. Sometimes she even called and said goodbye to them-- knowing that her remaining time was short. I heard her speak of hallowed memories, as she gave them sincere compliments and praise. She said a few words to me that have always brought me a sense of great belonging and love, "You are not my sister-in-law anymore. You are my sister. I love you so much." That is the way the last few months of her life were lived. Those were holy days for me. All these years later, I still remember watching a life that was immeasurably successful--one that I wanted to emulate.

There was not any more time for the superfluous or inconsequential as Joan began to accept that she would not recover. We laughed a lot because she had a fine-tuned sense of humor. Sometimes there would be six or seven hospital volunteers in her room so they could laugh and hear her insights from her brilliant and well-read mind. Being with her in those months was one of the greatest gifts anyone has ever given me. When she said, "I would do anything to go home and change a diaper and wipe my child's nose," it really changed my life. It sounds simple, but it is true. I began to stop hearing the world's sirens blaring in my life--telling me what composed a successful life. Instead, I heard Joan's voice, and I knew how to measure more what really mattered.

The noise of the world's clamoring for success began to not be as important to me. And sometimes,  in quiet moments, sparks and a few lighting bolts have retaught and reiterated what Joan taught me long ago. The accolades of the world are fun but fleeting. For me, one of the ways to appraise my life is to feel in moments throughout the day or week: "This is the most wonderful moment in the world right now."

I remember one night, about fifteen years ago, I went on a walk alone at dusk. At that time, there were six children living with us, and my blind father-in-law. Sometimes I was exhausted, I admit. It was a busy time. As I came around the corner, I peered into our house windows from the street (our house was always a fishbowl on the bottom floor). It was Christmastime, and the tree was perched brightly in the corner. Inside I could see one child playing the piano, someone else preparing food in the kitchen, another child stretched out on the floor playing chess with my husband by the fire. Another child sat on their grandpa's chair next to him. I stood there for a while and marveled. Yes, this scene before me required everything out of me sometimes. But it was worth it, and there was nowhere else I would rather be.

I was grateful and glad I could walk in my warm house--knowing it was home, and they all belonged to me. It was a "metric moment." So that is how I measure my life, ordinary as that might be--the feeling I know that the people I love are there, and with me. They forgive me, and we watch each other grow.

The night when I had my "metric moment" looking into my house when we lived in St. Louis

Capturing a "metric moment" when I knew that having a family was swelling my heart, bursting it right open. I loved seeing my husband become a new father. So many "metric moments"... A new #GirlDad

When I found out Elias, our son with autism could ski...

When I knew my love of other cultures would always take me around the world...

When my dad and one of his namesakes, our son, having a big hug a few years before Dad died...

I love my big family and our reunions.

My husband took me to see YoYo Ma when I first started to play the cello.

Remembering the love I always had for my mother and father-in-law....

Surprising my husband on his 29th birthday in New York City...