画里真爱

天还未亮的时候，我便已经起床，点上一盏台灯，在地板上为我的女神画一幅丹青。我很早就说过，今年要在她生日之前，为她作一幅《美女与咖啡》。

自从嫁来澳洲以后，我的妻子最喜欢的事情，莫过于去坐拥壮阔海景的西式餐厅，点上一杯咖啡，坐在阳光下慢慢地细饮品尝，时而望去海上的浪花朵朵，时而仰视天上的云卷云舒，轻轻地叹一口气，任由海风吹走一身的疲倦。最后，自然少不了让她的爱人为她在阳光下留下一张相片。我记得在许多这样的海景餐厅里，我都为女神拍过照片。我对可以成为她的爱人并为她效劳，视作我一生最大的荣耀！不过，此次我所作的画作，并非单纯照搬某一个景点的照片，而是将多个不同地方的餐厅进行了剪辑与艺术加工。正所谓，艺术源于生活，而高于生活。

在构图上，我参考了达芬奇的名画《蒙娜丽莎》：女神基本位于整个画面的视觉中心，人物的后方则是层叠的风景。画中女神左手的摆姿也像极了蒙娜丽莎。

我感激我的妻子，因为她在享受海景、阳光和咖啡的同时，也教会了我如何去欣赏这些事物。我来到澳大利亚的时间比她早很多年。但在结婚之前，我从来不会这样去欣赏、去品味。这些景致在布里斯班极为平常，却也最为珍贵。渐渐地，在她的感染和带动之下，我也学会了寻找生活中的每一个细节处的美。现在的我，也习惯了在下班时买一杯咖啡，在夕阳的余晖中漫步走过市中心的大街小巷。她教会了我如何生活，她让我明白了如何让平凡的日子过得富有诗情画意。所以，我的画笔里既盛满了对她最深的爱意，又带着无尽的感激。

一眨眼间，终于在孩子醒了之前完成了画作。我迫不及待地将这幅画送至她的眼前，因为这就是我对她真爱的证据！

Children’s Day

The recent newsletter from my son's primary school described the activities for Under Eight's Day. We didn't have a festival like that when I was growing up in China. Instead, we had Children's Day on June 1st for all children before they entered secondary school, which is probably the closest equivalent.

I can still remember that there was usually an evening carnival held in the open air at school. Each class would put on a performance on the stage, such as a choir, a dance, or a drama, but as usual, it was none of my business. I was never on stage throughout the years at primary school. Even when everyone else danced to "Jingle Bells" in Grade Three, I was the only one left in the audience area. I didn't mind that at all and even felt lucky as it gave me much freedom to do whatever I liked, such as staring at the moon, counting the weeds on the ground, and looking for uniquely shaped rocks.

When I was in Grade Five, my mum bought me a new pair of pants for the carnival. "Though you won't participate in the drama, you should still dress smartly and enjoy the activities," she said.

When I arrived at the classroom, my teacher was instructing some students on how to perform the play "The Fisherman and His Wife". She glanced at me as I entered the room. She was telling off the boy who was supposed to play the fisherman, saying, "Why are you wearing such brightly coloured pants? You don't look like a poor fisherman at all! Please find someone wearing grey to swap with you."

"Who is wearing grey?" the boy asked. The teacher gestured to me, signaling for me to come over. She then said, "You two go to the bathroom and swap your pants, please!" I was highly reluctant to do so, but since it was the teacher's instruction, I had no choice. "Hooray!" "Well done!" All others cheered as the boy performed on stage. "The drama was very impressive!" the principal remarked. But I sat there unhappily, staring at the blue pants I had exchanged with the other boy.

When the carnival ended, we went back to the bathroom to swap our trousers back. "Why are my trousers so dirty?" I asked. "It's none of my business," he replied, “The teacher told me to rub some dirt from the ground onto them. She said it was the only way I could look like a poor fisherman." At home, I cried and blamed my mother for giving me a pair of grey pants. I sweared I would never wear them again.

As I grew older, I realized that this was simply a form of schoolyard bullying. It was the teacher, if not the boy, who wanted to embarrass me. While art imitates life, it also elevates it. In a drama, one does not need to wear exact replica clothing to portray a character convincingly. There are many other ways to convey your role to the audience; that is the true art of the stage.

Recently, I sang Cantonese opera, performing both the male and female roles. I do not attempt to sing exactly like a woman, as that is impossible. Instead, I alter the two voices just enough to make it clear that there are two distinct characters: one male and one female.

The Love That Can’t Tell

 Yesterday, I drew a picture of an old lady taking three children to eat jelly in a revolving restaurant. My son saw the picture, pointed to the little boy in the middle, and said, "That's me!" "No," I said, "that's me when I was very young." The story behind the picture is that my grandma took me and my sisters to a revolving restaurant during her first visit to China since migrating to Australia. I was five years old at the time.

Grandma was the kind of person who liked to hide almost everything in her mind. I felt it was very challenging to know what she was really thinking about. I remember that many times I saw her staring at an old black-and-white photo of a lady sitting on a chair. I asked her who she was. "She's my mother," she said. However, she refused to tell me why she looked at her mother's photo again and again throughout the year. "Do you miss your mum?" I asked. "No," she responded.

One day, when I woke up in the morning, Grandma merrily told me that she had cooked some noodles for my breakfast. "Now you should know how good I am to you. I am over eighty. Who else would I make breakfast for?" she said. "Yeah, you're good to me. But that doesn't mean you're better to me than to others. You took care of others when they were very young. You cuddled them, soothed them to sleep, and fed them. But when I came to your place, I was already grown up. At least you don't need to feed me," I rebutted.

A few days later, I came home just as the moon was rising. Grandma was standing on the porch, waving anxiously at me. She urged me to come to the dining table as soon as possible, and she opened the microwave to fetch a bowl of soup. After dipping a finger into the soup, she said, "The temperature is just right. This is a bowl of American ginseng soup. I only have one bowl. Drink it as soon as possible." "But I am not hungry," I said. "Sit down!" she ordered.

With one hand holding the back of my head and the other hand holding the bowl, she fed me! After she finished feeding me, she looked out the window and glanced around. Suddenly, she giggled and said, "This is a secret between us. Don't tell anyone that I gave the soup to you!" She looked smug.

A nightingale with a true heart

Yesterday, I drew a picture of a bird and flowers. While drawing the bird, I thought of a fairy tale called The Nightingale, written by Andersen. In ancient China, there lived a nightingale who could sing beautifully. His songs touched the emperor, who couldn't keep tears from falling while listening to his singing.

But soon, the emperor of Japan sent a mechanical bird to China, causing the real bird to lose favor in the palace. The end of the story was that the emperor became very sick a few years later, but the real nightingale flew to his bed and cured him with its singing.

What is the difference between the real and mechanical birds? Only the real bird can sing from its heart. A song from a true heart can cure a soul while those with hypocrisy only make others sick. Any form of art should be created from the creator's true heart. Otherwise, it is hard to move people, or what is worse, it is harmful. This is a principle I have always adhered to while making any art product. 

Many years ago, when I was about to leave Xi'an, a friend said to me, "Oh, my dear Little New, you're too kind-hearted because you treat everyone with a true heart. I'm afraid that you will be hurt sooner or later, since not everyone is as friendly to you as we are." After leaving Xi'an, my life became very different. I went to Australia and met a lot of people. Just as my friend had expected, I was hurt by one person after another. I even tried to learn to be more hypocritical and cunning, but I found it very hard to be that way. I have a strong feeling of guilt when telling a lie. Having experienced the ups and downs of life, I've chosen to be myself, living a simple life. I want to just be a nightingale Lin a forest, singing with my own voice and own heart.

RESPECT

When I was working at Queensland University of Technology, I often went to the swimming pool down stairs of my office.
I have never been a good swimmer, and as a result, I always stayed on the gentle exercise lane by the side.
One day when I was swimming as usual, I found other people in my lane all moved away to elsewhere. I puzzled, checked the surrounding environment and saw that a person was slowly taken off from a wheel chair and the carer who was helping him blamed me not moving away. “Sorry!" I said, "I didn't see you. I will leave now." However the boy from the wheel chair suddenly said, "No. I don't want you to leave. Please don’t. Could you stay and swim with me together?" I nodded my head. After playing for a while, I told him that I needed to go back to office for work.
"I'm very glad today." The boy told me and he looked at the carer pleasantly. "Every time when I came here, all people who were playing in this lane would move to others, making me lonely. I'm glad that you can stay with me." Then he asked, "could you let us know when you will be here so that we always try to meet you?" "It's hard to say." I said, "As I am working just upstairs. I come here whenever I like. But you can try to ask others to be with you too. I am sure they will be glad to be with you if you request.”
"No." He said, "I only want to be with you as you swim badly. Though you can walk faster than me on the land, you can’t be faster than me in the water, which makes me very happy!"

A Revisit To A University Campus

Today we went to Brisbane CBD, and parked our car at QUT's Gardens Point Campus. This is the campus that I had studies and worked for a long time. I am familiar with everywhere and everything, including the lawns, the buildings and the classrooms. The giant "Undersea World" animation screen is still there at P block, and thus we stepped into it and let the kids play there for a while. Many times in the past I felt embarrassed to come to QUT, especially I was afraid to accidentally meet someone I had known before, but this time I am relieved. I know I am innocent and I have done nothing wrong. This is why I have no longer been afraid to face anyone or anything.

My previous office is located at Level 7 of the building. I still clearly remember that in the then Head of School's office, a Dutch professor that I once admired, blamed me for my presentation to some business stakeholders, "Your understanding of the theory is correct, your method to the investigation is sensible, your conclusion is objective, but you are wrong to directly speak out the conclusion in front of the business stakeholders as your result will make them very unhappy." At that time I really thought I had done something wrong or guilty. Ten years later, I stood in the building and thought of that conversation. Though I know he really criticised me, I've no longer think it to be my guilty, but instead, to be something that I should be proud of. At least I am brave enough to speak out my research findings in front of business stakeholders, even when my conclusion is said to potentially make them very upset and annoyed.

I watched a documentary on ABC iView last year, which was about a man who was undertaken a gender reassignment surgery as a new born baby due to a genital different from normal people's, agreed by his parents and recommended by a doctor. This surgery caused all traumas of his whole life. He later found out the doctor and asked him why he did this to bring him all those sufferings. The doctor said he was sorry for the man's suffering, but he made this decision because he wanted to help him as this was what was suggested on the textbook and the trainings in hospital after he graduated, though he knew it was no longer suggested in nowadays' material. In fact, the wrong suggestion was a result of a fake medical research.

The doctor intended to help the then newborn boy to make that decision but the decision in fact harmed him. There were many incidents happened during my days at QUT as a researcher. All these contributed to my eventually leaving from research. In the past I thought these incidents hurt me a lot. But without them, how could I really escape? After understanding this, I've no longer annoyed of anyone or anything. All have become history, and I have a much better life.

母爱无价

 母亲节将至的时候，妻子提醒我说，“你要么送点礼物给你妈妈，要么请她去吃一餐。别再像个小孩子那样只送她一首歌或者一幅画。”“为什么送一幅画作不好呢？”我问。“你又不是送名家的画。你那幅画能值多少钱？也不怕别人说你吝啬！”我听罢做了一个鬼脸说，“说不定以后我真成了画家，那时我的画作就不再不值钱了。不过免得你说我光会做白日梦，我就请咱一家人出去吃一餐吧。”不知何故，谈及这些，我不禁想起了我和奶奶之间的一些往事。

有一次我放学回家，奶奶说，“你是不是觉得阿婆对你不好，所以恨阿婆了。”“没有啊，”我说，“我只想你再疼爱我多一点，就像你对其他的孙子女一样。”“阿婆老了，不中用了，又没钱，疼不疼爱你有什么所谓。”阿婆说，“你还真不要给别人知道你这么想，否则别人笑死你。”“他们从小就有爷爷奶奶疼爱，自然不觉得珍贵。但是我呢？”我说，“那年春节我们去了五舅公家拜年。五舅公很得意地说他毫不犹豫地卖了多少个古董花瓶给他的孙子去武汉读书，他说‘我不知道他能不能真的成材，但是只要有一点希望我就愿意尝试；即使成不了大材，只要对他以后的生活能改善一点点，我也觉得值了。至少我要他知道阿公多么爱他。’一时间客厅里几乎所有人都笑了，唯独我坐在一个角落，内心泛起了波澜，我在想----”“你在想什么？”奶奶问。“我在想，如果我爷爷仍在世，他会怎么说。因为我也是那年考去西安读书的。”我说，“可惜我从来没见过爷爷，也没听过他的声音。”“你见过的，”奶奶说，“你当然见过了。”“但在我的记忆里，我没见过。”我说。“那也是，你那时还那么小。”奶奶说，“你不记得才是合理的。”然后我抱着奶奶的手问她，“这么说你和爷爷出国的时候我已经出生了，那么你们有没有过那么一点点不舍得我呢？”奶奶想了片刻，笑着说，“有。你问这些就最聪明了！总会撩起人的情绪。”从此我便每晚都和奶奶说起以前的一些旧事。我说起了我们以前刚从农村搬到城市里的艰难。“不可能，一定不是这样的。”奶奶说。“你不是说我不会说谎的吗？”我说，“怎么又不信我了？”“你那时还小，肯定记错了。”奶奶说。我说起了爸爸从远处打工回来的情景，以及他如何从木工转行做卖面包，后来又开了小卖部。奶奶静静地听着，神色凝重，时而叹气，时而流泪。“为什么这么多事情我都不知道！”奶奶说着显得有些生气，“你爸爸竟然什么都不告诉我！他还当我是他妈妈吗？”我说起了爸爸妈妈开小卖部的生活，从早上几点开店，到晚上几点回来，以及我小学时如何帮忙把一袋袋大米扛在肩膀上送去客人家里，还有我暑假帮忙看铺的时候如何被小偷拿走了放零钱的盒子。每一次奶奶都静静地听着。她说，她很喜欢听，因为这么多年以来，没有其他人跟她说过所有这些事情。而她最关心的始终是我爸爸这么多年来的生活，我感觉她仍然深深地牵挂着我的爸爸。我说，“所有认识他的人都说他小时候读书是最优秀的，但是长大后赚钱的本事和他的学习一点也不相匹配。”“其他人赚钱怎么好法？”奶奶问。我说，“爸爸不算富裕也不贫困，一般般吧。很多人说爸爸过于胆小，不敢逾越规矩半步，所以没办法发财。然后每次外婆听到人们这么说，都说，‘我就喜欢他踏踏实实安分守己，他这样最好了。’”“那你外婆对他很好了。你外婆在帮他说话。”奶奶说。“还有很多人比如姨婆也对他也很好，别人对你说姨婆很关心他，那的确是真的。”我说，“而且我觉得姨婆并不期望他去回报。”“当然了，”奶奶说，“你姨婆就是这样的人。” 

有一次我和奶奶闹了矛盾，我一时冲动搬出去姐姐那里住了几天。爸爸劝说我回去。“阿婆，我搬回来了。”我对奶奶说，“爸爸说你很牵挂着我。他说你不是不喜欢我，你经常无理责备我是因为你不想别人妒忌我。”“早知道你会走，”奶奶说，“我就不骂你了。我以后不敢骂你了。”“你也不需要不敢，我只想你爱我再多一点。”我说。“我当然不敢骂你啦！”奶奶说，“难道我不怕你真的飞走了到远处，不理我了吗？” 可是没过几年，我又和奶奶吵了一次，我又一次搬了出去，两个星期都不回去。爸爸说，“你还是回去吧。你这么和她吵完不回去，她会很受打击的。我知道她还是很爱你的。”妈妈也说，“无论她爱你与否，你自己要做正确的事。”于是我又回去。晚上，我趴在她床前说，“阿婆，你再原谅我吧，我不是有心要气你的。只是有时我觉得自己也受了些委屈，所以才一时冲动。”奶奶望着我，眼含泪水地说，“傻孩子，我从来就没生过你气，也从来没觉得你有错。老实说吧，我一天健在你就一天好过。可是我总有一天会撑不住。到时候，你怎么办？你爸爸妈妈又不在澳洲，谁会照顾你呢？”“我不需要别人照顾了，”我说，“我已经移民了，又有了工作。虽然我工作得很不开心，但总有一天我会找到新的工作，我的生活会慢慢好起来的。” 

去深圳工作之前，我问奶奶，“你会不会舍不得我？”我以为奶奶一定不想我去那么远，因为之前我只搬出去几天她就很不高兴了。谁知她却说，“怎么会不舍得！阿婆根本不需要你。你不在了，大把人照顾我。你好好地去深圳。或者你当初就不应该来阿婆这里。阿婆既不想照顾你，也不需要你照顾。”我听了很是伤感。奶奶在接着这一年里身体一落千丈，大家都说因为她的其他八个孙子女里，有的少来她那里了，有的还去了墨尔本读书，但是从来没有人说是因为我的离开。“奶奶还是爱别的孙子女多一些。”我叹了一口气，有点怅然，“原来通过这几年相处，我在她心中仍然比不上别人。”不过慢慢想一下，这有什么所谓呢？她只要还是爱我就可以了，她是不是更爱其他人又有什么所谓呢？我想起我的妈妈也有三个子女，但她最偏爱我。既然有了妈妈最深的爱，我何须这么贪心计较奶奶的呢？毕竟别人生来就和她一起生活，而我们之间却有着二十几年的空白岁月！

 我再次回来澳洲以后不久就要结婚了。因为我买的房子离奶奶的住所很远，爸爸说，“你奶奶一定舍不得你搬到远处，你不如租个房子在附近陪伴她。”我说服了妻子，在奶奶住所附近租了一套公寓，每天来看一下她，直到她生命的尽头。我当时不明白为什么要这样做。但数年以后我突然想通了，我觉得这是我作的一个十分正确的决定。我感激爸爸妈妈的教导。一直以来，爸爸和奶奶之间有一个最大的误会，那就是为什么他一直劝我住在奶奶那里。我自然明白爸爸是因为出自真心想奶奶开心一点，因为他知道奶奶深爱着我。但是在别人甚至可能包括奶奶的心里，我们这么做可能更多的是从经济的角度考虑。爸爸自己无法消除这最后的一层误会，我却可以通过婚后租房来证明。我知道当时我是委屈了自己的妻子。但是我知道她也是通情达理的人。有一天她要是明白了这一切，她也会为自己的付出而自豪！