China

I'm in NYC, getting my travel visa for my upcoming trip to China; and while I was on the train my head filled with many thoughts of love, loss, fear and the future. I am still sorting them out, but this passage from the The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman seemed oddly appropriate:

I'd made myself believe that I was fine and happy and fulfilled on my own without the love of anyone else. Being in love was like China: you knew it was there, and no doubt it was very interesting, and some people went there, but I never would. I'd spend all my life without ever going to China, but it wouldn't matter because there was all the rest of the world to visit. But then I realized I had been to China...And I thought: am I really going to spend the rest of my life without that feeling again? I thought I want to go to China. It's full of treasures and strangeness and mystery and joy...

The House that Grace Built

So I have hired myself out as a woman-of-all-work to my friends Luke and Ranida, payment being dinners and dog kisses. As I mentioned earlier, they are about to have a baby (officially in about 3 days) and unfortunately their house is not ready for the upcoming onslaught of relatives and friends. Luke has been frantically trying make things habitable, so I've been helping out. I don't think Luke's first choice for an assistant would be a 5'1" girl who has never used power tools before, but he's so desperate I got the job.

I, myself, am quite pleased with my new temporary employment. Not only do I get to work out some aggression and learn some new skills, I get to feel really manly. This is me using the power saw:
What I should be thinking is, "Hmm, one false move and my illustration career is over." However, I am really thinking, "Wow, this thing is loud."

This is me hammering, which I have done before. However, I was told that I hammer like a girl and was taught the "real" way of doing it.

However, even with such high-testosterone tutelage, it still takes me about 140 blows to get a nail in. So, regrettably, I still hammer like a girl.

But maybe that's not so bad. After a weekend of muscle-building home improvements, I'm about ready to go home and make some cupcakes. But I'll beat the eggs like a man.

back to work

So, I am easing my way back into my work. Last night was my first public speaking appearance since Robert's death. It went great, but I suppose I cheated a bit as it was a panel discussion with the rest of my blue rose girls. It's easy to perform when your friends are there to watch your back.

Robert's Snow at the Danforth Museum

I was going to do a write-up of the Robert's Snow Reception at the Danforth Museum but Elaine and Anna have already done it quite well. So, I will be lazy.

the many days of mural, part II

So, despite some doggie help, I have finally finished work on the mural. I can't believe it's done!


The painted Chinese characters is a proverb written by the upcoming baby's grandfather. Roughly translated it says,“In the pureness and innocence of childhood, true joy and happiness.”

This is my favorite part of the mural. The tree will be used as a growth chart, which is why the banner says, "Oh, how you've grown!" Originally it was going to include the baby's name but since that keeps changing, we decided to leave it out.


All in all the mural took about ten days to do. It may have been ten, ten-hour days, mind you. I think I might have lost some weight in the process. I definitely lost sleep as you can tell from my haggard appearance. Haggard, but happy!

typical evening in the studio of Grace Lin

I have been trying to work (gasp!) and my cousin Austin (who is a musician as well as a Phd student trying to find the cure for Alzheimers) has just bought a guitar, so we are taking a hiatus from our video games. It's only temporary, probably only as long as it takes for Austin to figure out how to play. Okay, that might take while.

you only lose what you cling to

Nine months ago, before Robert's illness became obviously terminal, I had been researching Buddhist quotes for my new novel. Without really considering the meaning, I wrote down the quote "you only lose what you cling to" as an offhand possibility. But as these last few months have progressed that quote seems to repeat in my head, becoming an anchor in an onslaught of emotional storms.

Caring for and watching someone you love die is a revelation. Only in Robert's death did I ever feel the emotions of life so purely and passionately. In that single moment, life and death balanced each other, becoming the same thing wrapped in one.

But that moment passed. Imperceptibly, Robert's death has begun to fade; and as his death diminishes in my life, the urge to cling to it beckons. Because to live in that moment of pure emotion, the moment where black and white become the same color, is to deny death. It allows me to feel that Robert is alive.

But to be in that moment of denying death, one must also deny life. To feel that Robert is alive, my own life must pay the price. And to do that, to squander my life in his name, would be the one thing he would not forgive me for.

So I have been letting go. Letting go of the memories, of the pure emotions, of the desperate times and flashes of beauty. And in this release, the meaning of the quote I wrote down long ago becomes clear to me. Clinging to Robert's death makes me feel as if I could lose his life. Letting it go makes me feel as if I can gain my own.