It's the third day of the Lunar New Year that I've spent in a wonderful solitude. With everyone else living on this floor gone, I've felt a bit more like a hermit. Even though I usually avoid contact with them and have no idea what they even look like, I'm always aware of them when they're around as I can hear their comings and goings. The first three days are the official holiday, and days four to six are when things start getting back to normal. It's possible everyone will remain gone until Wednesday, it's possible they might start floating back tomorrow. I'll know when they return because I will hear them.

My mother was in town last weekend for several days. She had been on a cruise, disembarking in Singapore, and flew to Taipei for a few days before flying back to the U.S. My uncle came up from Kaohsiung to spend time with her. I think his thinking may have been that they're getting old, no one knows when will be the last time they see each other, so take advantage of every opportunity to meet up. Neither of them I figure for being sentimental types, but it's possible. I don't know him that well really. She's definitely not. She said she came to see me, but the truth is we can only stand each other for a few hours at a time so maybe she did ask him to come up. She still thinks I'm working so I always have an excuse to bail, and true to her own work ethic, she would never prioritize herself over someone else's job.

On her last day here (she was flying out in the afternoon), she expected to meet up with me at lunch and initially said that my uncle wouldn't be with us because his son, my cousin Gary, was flying in that morning from mainland China for Lunar New Year and so he would meet up with him and they'd go directly to Kaohsiung by HSR. I had to brace for one more excruciating lunch without his buffer. 

But then prior to that, I realized that didn't make sense. Gary was flying into the airport that my mother was flying out of later that day and they weren't going to meet up? My mother doesn't give a rat's ass – not the sentimental type, I said – but Gary has something like an overblown sense of responsibility and family decorum almost to a fault. In his mind, if there was a chance to meet his aunt (who sat at the table of honor at his wedding), even if only for a few hours, he was going to make it happen. Turns out I was right and when I arrived at the hotel, my uncle was still there and Gary and his 10 year old son were on their way from the airport by MRT to Taipei for us to have lunch before they departed for Kaohsiung, my mother to the airport, and me . . . to "work", of course. I didn't even have time to accompany them to the airport.

There was some discomfort as to why I wasn't going to Kaohsiung for New Years until I came up with the excuse that I had already volunteered to work over the holiday since I was basically a foreigner and the Lunar New Year didn't mean as much to me. I'm a terrible liar, and of course when you start lying you have to back it up, and I hadn't prepped myself for Gary (whose English is decent) to get inquisitive about my job and my having to make things up on the spot, particularly difficult since The China Post went under as a physical paper many years ago (it may still be online, but if it is it's no longer a major news player in Taiwan).  

But there really was no way I would go to Kaohsiung for the holiday. As has happened before, whenever I'm placed in an extended family setting I have to keep my mouth shut. If I selfishly open my mouth to say something, whatever conversation had been going on had to stop and focus on me, the only English-only speaker. I prefer to consider myself persona non grata. I haven't heard from Gary's sister, Audrey, any time recently. I have no idea where she lives now nor whether she's flying in for the New Year, and if she has no expectation of meeting up with me, then really no one does or even should. 

As far as family is concerned, all is as should be. My sister-in-law and I used to email each other twice a year but she didn't at all last year. Doesn't mean she won't, but I ain't expecting anything. I did send that birthday greeting to my brother in July and he responded, but proper form between us meant that was all – greeting and response, it wasn't supposed to be a communication or continued exchange. 

Sometimes I think I just have to face that these people just don't like me, lol! And there's no reason for them to like me, I give them no reason to think I want them to like me. Theoretically I know I can contact anyone at any time about whatever, but my principle of don't be something to someone and then disappear prevents, since my disappearing is always an option or an intention, even if not likely or immediately manifesting. What's their excuse for not contacting me? Maybe I'm lacking in imagination, but the foremost reason is they don't wanna because they just don't like me, lol! Why would you contact someone you don't like? Why wouldn't you contact someone you like and haven't heard from in years?

I know relationships are complicated and this line of thinking is totally faulty. I have friends I've been out of contact for years and nothing is preventing me from saying 'hi', but I don't. Saying 'hi' isn't being something to someone, it's just saying 'hi'. I can say 'hi' and kill myself the next day and it would just be what it would be. No different with family. You just expect them to be there merrily rolling along. No one knows when will be the last time they see each other, so there's no reason to think there won't be a next time.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2019,1:54 p.m. - They day I found out The Living Mall had died closed.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2019, 3:13 p.m. - Sanmin Branch Taipei Public Library, 6th fl. photostitch.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2019, 3:03 p.m. - Through a window on a side street.

3:23 p.m. - The dead Living Mall from the southeast side, access fenced up. It kinda resembles the Jawa sandcrawlers on this side. Total coincident that the sphere on the other side looks like the Death Star.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2019, 2:55 p.m. - Temple on Ba De Rd.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 4, 1:43 p.m. - And all the crap on the plaza outside The Living Mall that obscured appreciation of the architecture.

In the batch of photos I posted last month, I mused that some shots would've been better in black & white. Black & white is my preferred medium, and it was easy when all I had to do was slap a roll of black & white film into a camera. With digital, the default is color and I don't have the talent or skill to use the "black & white mode" and have things come out satisfactorily or even workable in post-production. The reason behind those shots is that I was just shooting how I always did, looking at form and composition and not thinking how color might make them mundane and pedestrian. Adding that color dimension back to reality and it's one dimension back to ordinary. 

But that got me thinking and recalling hearing that for digital black & white, it's better to shoot in color, emphatically not in the camera's black & white mode, and remove the color in post. I was always closed-minded about that, feeling that if I was shooting in color, I was seeing and thinking in color. That's not black & white! Closed-minded, I tell you.

But for December, I thought why not at least give it a shot? Shoot with my little digital point and shoot with the intent that the final image will be black & white. I'm still figuring out the best way to remove color and choosing which method I like best. As a baseline, I use GIMP's basic desaturate function and then adjust contrast and brightness, which is standard for me. I'm experimenting with another function in GIMP called "mono mixer" which removes the color, but then you can adjust red, blue and green values as represented in black & white tonalities. I currently have no idea what I'm doing with that, I'm pretty much floundering haphazardly hoping for serendipity. The color controls don't work like filters do with black & white, and I haven't figured out the logic in adjusting them. I don't know if one adjustment for one color may be cancelling out another adjustment I did with another. As for results, sometimes I like the straight desaturation, sometimes I like the mono mixed version; so far almost 50-50. I have no idea what I'm doing with green in mono mixer, but in general I like the tonality of foliage I get when using mono mixer. But that doesn't mean anything because I simply have no idea what I'm doing.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1:52 p.m. - The Living Mall died at the end of November. Those cars at the base of the sphere don't belong there and probably belong to workers or owners orchestrating removal of remaining contents.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1:45 p.m. - The (dead) Living Mall from the other side. The sidewalks surrounding the mall have all been fenced up.

2:33 p.m. - Across Civic Blvd. from The Living Mall is the Taiwan Railways workshop. It's no longer functional and I think they're trying to turn it into a museum/park. If the timing fell into place, The Living Mall could have survived by integrating this entire area into something like Huashan 1914 Cultural Park. The railway workshop is adjacent to Songshan Eslite Spectrum (behind me) and the refurbished grounds of a tobacco factory transformed into a cultural/creative arts center. A footbridge should have connected The Living Mall with the cultural park over Civic Blvd., and the trees outside The Living Mall should've been removed creating an open plaza that would allow proper appreciation for the architecture (which the footbridge also would've done). There was a lot of "wow" potential in this area. I'm sure timing was the least of why it couldn't happen.

4:10 p.m. - Holiday spirit, Songshan Eslite Spectrum. Buildings of the former tobacco factory-now-arts center in the background.

4:15 p.m. - Meeting up. I shot a series so I know they were meeting up.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2:25 p.m. - Taiwan supports Hong Kong against Mainland China's Communist Party, Keelung riverside bikeway. 

2:37 p.m. - The new park I discovered last month along the Keelung River.

3:10 p.m. - A mall/business complex across from Nangang Software Park MRT station on the brown line. Personally I'm not very impressed by it because of the confusing floor plan (effects of aging, no doubt) and it doesn't even seem to have a proper name to refer it by. Still it seems to be fairly popular on weekends, more so than The Living Mall was in the past however many years. 

MONDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2:17 p.m. - Keelung River. This was pretty in color (as was the previous pic), but this is what black & white was about for me. It doesn't matter if it's pretty in color, if I'm committed to black & white, I'm sticking to the black & white version. With film I never thought 'oh this would've been pretty in color'.

2:18 p.m. - Actually two bridges in this shot. Chenggong Bridge with the supports in the river and Huandong Expressway with the arches.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 23, 3:24 p.m. - Sixth floor, Taipei Public Library, Sanmin branch.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2:27 p.m - Yanshou Park No. 3, across from Taipei Public Library, Minsheng branch.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 26, 3:33 p.m. - Just architecture of unusual character (AOUC) amidst Taipei's endless, monotonous sprawl of unexceptional low-rises (one of which I live in).

Things have been unsettled lately. Hairy, even. All internal, mental space. Externally little has changed, same as it ever was; sometimes the external acts up and is annoying or my body reminds me about aging, other times it's calm and behaves but it's a comfort that I know can only be temporary. It's the uncertainty and anxiety when the feeling arises that something has to happen, something has to change. I don't know if anything's going to change, despite the press that something is looming. The comfortable pattern has been that nothing changes, but the reality I'm well aware of is that's impossible to continue in perpetuity. These disturbances, I should note, are also a part of the repeating pattern, lulling me into thinking things'll be alright. And they will be alright. Until they're not.

The internal space has been characterized by turmoil, dynamic and surreal. I've been trying to deal with it by bringing everything back to practice; mindfulness practice as well as Vajrayana-inspired practices that I've developed from instinct, what resonates and makes sense to me. Part of the turmoil is that in the background is a doubt about it, what if it doesn't describe a reality of life and death? And it doesn't. Or at least that's totally the wrong question or approach. The only certainty is death itself. The only question is my attitude towards it and how I'm existing approaching it whenever and however it comes.

So many practices that without a teacher sanctioning them, I know I may be running risks. Or not. What risks? I imagine they would be risks on such a subtle level (karma or energy) I wouldn't even know about them. On a mundane, this-world level I'm not too concerned about risks. Those would be risks of harming myself or other people or psychological or spiritual damage. I'm not worried about those, the normative narratives that define those concerns just don't apply anymore. Take psychology, if I spoke with a psychiatrist, we wouldn't even be speaking the same language. I mean I'd find an English-speaking one in Taiwan, but the assumptions would all be completely different. I may say I'm suicidal, but there is no concept of harming myself anymore. The psychiatrist would write a prescription for antidepressants (which I've always thought would be convenient to overdose on). Harming other people is necessarily a this-world consideration, but I've done all I can to minimize that. Any harm I cause would be indirect and more about them than me, and I don't know who "them" are anyway. Who am I causing harm? Who's here?

Mandala practice, dakini practice, bardo practice. Practices that are not practices because they are not sanctioned and therefore considered risky. Considered risky by whom? Of course there's only me, but my doubts in calling them risky are also my fail-safe. Can't be arrogant or self-assured about them. Always leave room for just being plain wrong.

Apparently "bardo practice" is a real thing, and what I'm doing is not it, but very strangely when I read about the real thing, it reminded me of a "winter term" project I did way back in college. Despite all the reading I've done about Tibetan Buddhism and the so-called Tibetan Book of the Dead, I only came across a description of a "bardo retreat" in relatively recent years in a book by Reginald Ray called Secret of the Vajra World. It's described as a retreat that was done in confined cells or mountain caves of Tibet and considered very advanced and even "dangerous". It's done in complete darkness and effectively complete solitude over a number of weeks. The retreat is supposed to help get an experience of the after-death bardo states and the instructions received for the retreat is essentially the Tibetan Book of the Dead.

At Oberlin, we had a "winter term" which was the month of January between fall and spring semesters where students could do anything they wanted and get credit for it as long as they framed it in terms of a project and got a faculty member to sign off on it as academically valuable. As one faculty member described it, you could raise a cactus and get credit as long as you designed it as a project.

My idea for my first winter term started with "solitary confinement". Mind you, this is so way back far in my past I have no idea about the motivation behind it nor the psychology that certainly was at play. I'm just describing how I remember it. I lived in a dorm which had a wing of apartments that were intended for guest stays by short-term faculty. I discovered that one was vacant and asked if I could use it for a winter term project. The idea was to hole myself not just in the apartment, but in the bathroom, which had a bathtub, of the apartment for winter term. Ideally complete isolation, no lights, no books, no music, no external distractions. The curtains of the apartment would be drawn so light couldn't seep in. I arranged for a friend to bring me easy-to-prepare light meals three times a day, emphasis on the easy as I didn't want to be a burden, but mind you hermits and retreatants in mountain caves in Tibet often had benefactors or supporters with arrangements for supplies.

How to get a faculty member to sign off on it? Well, I was considering being an East Asian Studies major and had taken classes to that effect, and in one Japanese history class the concept of "wabi/sabi" was introduced. That concept was expounded upon much later in a "King of the Hill" episode, so I'm going to assume everyone knows about it without my explaining it. But I went to that professor, a most illustrious and revered Ronald DiCenzo (RIP), and proposed my winter term project as exploring the wabi/sabi concept as "Beauty in Isolation". He bought it, god bless his heart, and signed off on it. Some lucky cactus got a reprieve from being raised by my lack of green thumb.

Actual extant memories: I forget if the project was three weeks or four weeks, but I made it for most part until the last week. In that time I stayed in the bathroom, mostly lying in the bathtub with the lights off. I only opened the door to take in the plate of prepared vegetables and leave it out. It wasn't complete isolation as I could still tell day from night since it was impossible for the bathroom to be completely light-proof, and I could still feel and hear activity because this was still in a dorm on a college campus. In the last week, I ventured out into the apartment. That's all I remember. I spent time outside the bathroom in the last week. The only actual memory of the weeks inside the bathroom was singing through the entire double album of Genesis' "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway", just because I could. I knew all the lyrics (but if I forgot any I had all the time in the world to recall them). And it was confirmed later by dorm residents telling me they could hear me warbling through the vents like a ghost (you can only imagine my embarrassment)! Was I going slightly mad in there? It's hard to argue otherwise.

Reading about the actual existence of a "bardo retreat" and relating it to that winter term project made me wonder where the hell did that idea come from? Could it be from past life resonances whereby I had undergone those bardo retreats? Another brick in the wall of evidence that reincarnation is a thing?

Back to present tension, what I'm calling "bardo practice" now has more to do with envisioning present life and reality as a bardo, equivalent in reality as the death bardos. The death bardos are described in the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and practicing living as if in a bardo state is treating it in the same way. In living reality, I'm being buffeted uncontrollably by the winds of reality like a bird in a gale. I seem to feel I'm in control of myself, that I make decisions of what to do at any given moment, but that's just illusion and delusion of being swept through the dire straits of the walk of living bardo. I'm actually in no more control of my fate, direction and destiny as I envision I would be as described in the death bardos.

In ways it's an extension of what I described before as my version of what I call "mandala practice". Both emerging more prominently in times of internal tumult and disturbance, working to melt away the habit of perceiving reality as concrete and actual. Even when we're able to accept and embrace the teachings of impermanence and the constantly changing nature of our lives, I think we still tend to treat that impermanent and constantly changing nature of our lives as reality, as actual. Somewhere along the line I got it in my head from the teachings that it all has to melt away, the experience of enlightenment is an experience of non-duality, no difference between this ego-conceived concept of me who is here and everything else sensed and perceived around me. It can't be striven for so I'm not striving for it, but I hope to work around the edges and challenging my perceived notions and concepts of reality. The easy targets are negativity and dysfunction and the effects of self-imposed isolation.