A Wedding


and Some thoughts





R and H got married last Saturday in a small church in Surrey. The ceremony and the banquet were well-tuned by several readings from the Bible, a reading of sonnet 18 of Shakespeare, and several moving speeches.


H the groom talked about his appreciation of his new wife and about the un-conpromised happiness that their match has created. He said R has brought him plentiful of joy and has offered him unlimited care. He put the beauty of R's virtue thus in words, '... R. forgives and forgets ...'.

The entire speech was footnoted with the speaker's good sense of humor and punctuated by intervals of burst of laughter. It helped us to envision their firm mutual commitment and projected an image of a future life of felicity that they are going to work on with their original families.


The two words, 'forgiving' and 'forgetting', lingered in the air, and I started musing on the relation between these two acts.



The alliteration between 'forgiving' and 'forgetting' might have made the two words sound easy and therefore light, but somehow they are two really difficult things to achieve, especially if we are talking about wrongs and faults in terms of managing a relationship.

It is not difficult to forget and then forgive, since, supposedly, the point of argument is buried in/or erased from the pool of memory and therefore the reason for the fight ceases to be. No worries for further consequent discord.

To forgive and then to forget is more a challenge, I suppose. It requires a generous heart, mature mind, and sympathetic reasoning. One has to reason with his/her own anger and the irritation that is provoked in him/her, then to extend his/her sympathy and affection to the partner, and is able to release both parties from the confrontation in the end.

It is in this process of reasoning with one's own emotion and in the process of clarifying the problem that 'forgiving' is enabled. In forgiving, forgetting is initiated, not in the sense that one represses the unpleasant past, but in the sense that one becomes considerate and understanding. Then the mutual affection is embodied and the emotional bond is strengthened.

Perhaps there isn't anything like complete forgetting, i.e. failing to track any trace of memory. Forgiving and forgetting are on the one hand, I suppose, removing the negative emotion, but on the other, remembering the affectionate bond that ties the the couple together in the beginning.

Time in York

A number of clocks stand on several corners in the city of York, providing, presumably, references to time. Most of the time, however, these clocks seem to forget their duty especially when they forget time themselves or when they tell the wrong time. The rather slow life pace of this medieval town, however, does not seem to reflect the need of these time controllers. Compelling people to walk faster? or to slow down? or just to present themselves as nice companions? I haven't found any massive digital clock here, fortunately. Watching and hearing clocks ticking away time are such a 'luxurious' and 'expensive' habit, I have to admit, but I really enjoy it.

Colors of these clocks are important. They are obviously the primary feature that drew my attention to these circular signs of modern life.

The bareness of time.









Green time for food and grocery.









Telling time before the house of God is very daring!









Brick red time invites me to a cup of tea.









This blue clock on the white building of the tourist information centre is always my favorite. The glossy blue frame is very eye-catching just like a piece of blue sky on a cloudy day: inspiring excitement and hope.







This is a very beautiful clock outside of a small church in the city centre. It looks grey-green on cloudy days, crystal blue on sunny days. A trumpeter is standing right above the clock, trumpeting soundlessly the time of the day. I found this idea of the trumpeter of time telling and clever: time passes without making any sound, but it has an imminent presence that voices itself so loud that can hardly be ignored.

An additional finding to my collection of cats in my search for animals in the city of York.
These two cats were spotted near King's Arm before Ouse Bridge.

Chicago, Kalamazoo (MI), and New York City: 09-17/May/2007


Intersection of sacred and secular spaces

Perhaps I really need more time so as to appreciate the beauty and the character of New York, one of the most legendary cities in the world. Before my trip, almost everybody I talked to told me that 'it's an amazing city', 'everything is happening in that city', or 'you will definitely love it'.

Yes, it is amazing, and indeed everything seems to be possible there, but, it is impressive in a very imposing way, at least, to me. Perhaps I have been too relaxed in the Old York, so that New York is too fast, too loud , and too busy.

The rapid rhythm and loud melody of New York City is driving every passenger forward, and further forward, mercilessly. However, this ever-faster movement from one block to another, from one street to another, from one metro station to another, is curiously slowed down every now and then by parish churches or cathedrals which are resting on some block corners.

I didn't expect to find so many sacred spaces in this 'very' secular place. By saying that it is a 'very secular' city, I mean, this is a city that seems to allow every kind of human material desire to be pushed to an extreme: most people are here or come here with a hope that their desire will be answered.

Trinity Church stands right at the intersection of Broadway and Wall Street: its soaring pinnacles counter-balance the skyscraper in their close confrontation. St. Paul's chapel is facing Ground Zero, echoing a solemn memory of loss.

St. Bartholomew's church sits right on Fifth Avenue with comfort and ease among an endless flow of traffic and man.

It was around noon when we arrived. The staircase that leads to the entrance of St. Bart's was taken up by people who snatched themselves away from half day's work. Some of them were chatting, some talking on the phone, some eating lunch, some reading, resting, watching Fifth Avenue, or just idling. The stairs between the busiest and the most lavish street in the world and the church yield a liminal space between the secular and the sacred, between excitement and tranquility, between real work and real rest, between sound and silence. Perhaps, for some people, it is also a boundless small area in which the soul and the body are granted a chance to encounter.

My entering into St. Bart's after a long walk in the stinging sunlight transformed my curiosity and surprise at the discovery of these quiet religious presences into an appreciation. Grateful to their steady and silent company.

On my travel map, they look just like scattered stars anchoring the city in an irresistible material flood.

Fifth Avenue is behind the gate and the window.

Print: Richard Fozard's 'Five Geese a' Cackling'

An Afternoon Detour to York Art Gallery

After a reading group meeting 'again' 'accidentally' taking place on a Bank Holiday Monday, I stepped in York Art Gallery. I was drawn to an exhibition, 'Richard Fozard: Printmaker', by this image of geese on its recent brochure.

Richard Fozard was a prinkmaker in Leeds, his works were inspired by the natural environment of Yorkshire Dale and were meant to represent the beauty that he had enjoyed. 'Five Geese a' Cackling' is a print from a woodcut. The rough and vibrant lines of shadow and light present a very dynamic composition. I breathed the air of solidarity that the ink and the lines create upon the paper, thinking the texture of paper, wood, and ink.

The show room was small, the size of the exhibition was mini, the other works were not entirely impressive, but this afternoon break in the company of these geese was pleasant enough for me to get ready for another half day's work.