Vortex

Vortex

Take a bow
Straighten the back
Thundering sound of applause
Cut through thought
Search in the crowd
Smile of an innocent child
Years have erased
That day of being proud
Conquering the world
Who hasn’t fought
Enduring to the end
Very few could vow
Don’t ask
What others can do
Ask instead
What you can do
In a vortex of chaos

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Secret

Secret

In this world crisis
What have you done
To keep peace
Winter seems fierce
Green saplings are yet
To be seen
Tossing and turning
Night has become misery
Secret
How can we find new energy
Seeking
Sometimes is just within your reach

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

When do you start ‘getting’ sarcasm and irony in speech?

In the new issue of Scientific American Mind (October/November, 2008), there is an article about how humans perceive irony and sarcasm. We know that words in speech can be ambiguous, but the ability to comprehend whether a certain comment is ironic or literal has intrigued many neurologists and psychologists.

In the essay, Psychologist Penny M. Pexman of the University of Calgary in Alberta conducted an experiment to see how children perceive irony and sarcasm in order to find out when this cognitive skill, relating to understand ironic comments, emerges in the development of language acquisition.

The result suggested that children’s sensibilities towards irony and sarcasm seem ‘hardwired’. Certainly, the research also mentioned that understanding and using irony and sarcasm require social intelligence, the ability to distinguish an ironic comment from its literal meaning, and understanding hints of facial expression, tone of voice, knowledge of the speaker’s personality and so forth.

Although the experiment provided a promising perspective in probing how early children start to develop the ability to use and comprehend ironic words, I speculate that it might not be very objective and could be very difficult to determine when exactly a child starts to grasp irony and sarcasm. As we know, a mother’s motherese can have impact on the baby when he or she is still in the womb. In addition, any input from the environment can possibly influence a child’s linguistic development, be from other people in the family or radio and TV programmes. Therefore, I think this research can only give us some understanding regarding human’s application and comprehension of irony and sarcasm. Further research and studies should be undertaken so as to give more valid evidence in the aspect whether or not “we are hardwired with a sense of irony.”

Sound of Rain

Sound of Rain

Lines of thought
Aligned
In a direction I fought
Images of humans
Withdrawn
By various of excuses
Defamation or praise
Which one you care less
Light of the sun
Colours of stars
Where can I find
A sense of self
Silver pearls twirl
On the plate above my head
Sound of rain
The melody of past
Softly kills
Step by step
No more tears
No more regret
Love is just an element
On the life’s centre stage

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Above the firmament

Above the firmament

Is there a possibility
To cross the invisible block
Daubing variegated hues
Upon the canvas in the dark
Skipping rock
Inadvertently lulls
A stimulating mind
Above the firmament
Cosmos-ridden plane
Spreads here and beyond
Silence is not without sound
Wisdom has its own spark
On the eternal path
Perhaps one day
All shall unknot
Elusiveness
Life and death
No longer perplex

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Voyage

Voyage

Seeking sea
Debate team
Overwhelming voyage
Lay underneath
Tulip bulb
Olive green
Cobblestone
Emerged
Bittersweet it might be
Life can never repeat
Touch
Breathe
And take a glimpse
Hope is determined
By strong belief
As I walk on the boulevard
Of Alpine tree

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Your dream is mine
My hope is yours
Looking at the stars
Picturing the moon so far
When English meets Chinese
Will our hearts change


“Now look at this time line you guys. Past perfect progressive indicates a continuous action in a specific time frame of the past, so you must use ‘had’ plus ‘been’ plus ‘verb+ing’ as the sentence pattern,” explained patiently Mr. Lin. “What the heck is that? How often do we actually use that in daily life?” asked Wu Gin while nudging Chen Ue-Han. “Ai-ya, just learn the rule and pass the exam first. Why are you so worried about the usage?” replied sarcastically Ue-Han.

The English lesson was always full of grammar drilling and sentence analysis in our senior year. Not that I didn’t like grammar at all, it was just a bit boring at times, especially on Saturday morning. Early sultry summer air was thick enough to be cut with a knife; and there were no fans at all in our classroom. As we tried not to let our eyelids drop down, the ring of bell saved our life. Everyone bustlingly packed his books and stood up to stretch legs. The scorching sun was mocking at us, a bunch of 18 year-olds who studied hard in hopes to get into a good university after September.

“Hey Tseng Yu-Chi, don’t forget to meet us at the Wind Exit later, okay?” shouted Wu Gin as he rushed out the classroom. “OK, catch you guys later,” I yelled back. The weekly ritual for our English group was held at a corner of the staircase in the science building. The view overlooking the greenish vegetable gardens tended by the county agricultural institute was soothing after the half-day’s intense English lesson. There were three of us, a group formed by common interests in language and science. We wanted to study abroad after college, experience different cultures, see whether the moon in a foreign land was truly bigger, and of course visit places we only studied in the textbooks. However, I never knew fate was such a heavy and burdensome thing to tackle in life; and if I could turn back the clock, I would hold back some words I had said to my dear friends…

Again October

Again October

Cactus quietly stands
On the windowsill
Afternoon light sifts
Through the curtain
Wandering in the sky
Cotton white clouds
Breathing the air
Maple red trees
Where has my mind been
Rain drops can't erase
Your face
Late night stars
Fragrance of grass
Lingering
My head spins
My heart beats
In a harmony
Enduring
Again October
Begins
With chilly feeling
Too thin to take in

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Flying Kite

Flying Kite

Literal meaning
Or hidden in context
A move represents
Emotion anticipates
Walking along
The road of green grass
Flying kite
A string pulls tight
Too much
Might break free fate
Too less
Could lose confidence
We all know balance
Is the most essential
When it comes to loving someone
Yet it's easily said then done
Even though we don't want

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Sahara

Sahara

Mysterious orange
A colour of age
Breathtaking change
A second too much
Inwardly
She pleads
The mistake never repeats
Tears have been drained
Dreams no longer exist
Sahara
An endless mirage
A meandering page
Exhibits
A story of Khan
Clandestinely

Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Summoning Fall

Summoning Fall

Kicking pebbles on the beach
Azure skies with cool breeze
The end of summer festivity
Alighting
The orange horizon
Rainbow balloons
And millions of heartbeats
Summoning fall
A complete change
Mind or flesh
Body or spirit
I have to search
A surprise may emerge
Unexpectedly
A new journey shall begin
After the turmoil

Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Determination

Determination

In a rut
Life seemed to flow
Rendezvous you thought
You might have
Vacation you desired
For so long
Revolved
Determination
Marched forward
Goals were set
Efforts were made
Lessons were learned
What else could one demand
Health happiness
Wealth world peace
And the circle of love

Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Loneliness

Loneliness

Comet’s tail slashed
An invisible line
Between the late night sky
And my mind’s cry
Waves not stirred
Hearts wished to beat
At the same time
Loneliness
We all have
Detest or appreciate
It is just a blink of an eye

Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Trembling Hand

Trembling Hand

Ladybug’s back
Catches a childhood trace
Willow tree’s shadow
Is no man’s land
Tom Sawyer
Paper airplane
And dragonfly’s dance
Nothing can replace
The old woman’s trembling hand
Begging on a drowsy day
With time too less to spare

Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Hope

Hope

White Calla lily
An emblem of an oblivious past
Antique store
The treasure of myriad thoughts
Gently
Dabbed on my path
To another planet
Have you ever wondered
Whether
Hope has colour or not
Have you closely observed
The blue mountain’s robe

Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Droplets of Alacrity

Droplets of Alacrity

Standing in the street
Bustling cars sweep
A thunder
A bolt of lightning
I can’t flee
Turing around the palace
Spectacular edifices breathe
The air
The heat
No one seems to believe
Droplets of alacrity
Shower in an afternoon
Full of inner peace

Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Blue Eyes and the Pacific Castle

Chapter 1

Radio cassette
Camera photograph
And teenage mind
Infuse on the surface
Light of the ocean
Swindles
The worst enemy ever…


“Why do we have to study Confucianism? Those are dead man’s teaching!” protested Wu Chin. “Hey, you can’t deny that Confucius was a great and wise man in the Chinese history. Besides, you were saying that because you hate memorizing stuff for exams,” sneered I. “Yeah right. You’re a weirdo who loves that! Why don’t you go back and live in that old-fashioned time. Oh, and you will need to use candles for reading in the evening,” answered Wu Chin while rolling his big brown eyes.

The library was quite as usual although it was the end of the spring semester. Most people preferred to study in their own classrooms unless they had to search some information for school projects. The Sunrise Boulevard in front of the school was a landmark in our town. Every one knew the legendary story of a high school student, who excelled and scored the highest marks ever on the national college entrance exams. Therefore, the boulevard was given another name after him, Lee Min-De.

“Lin Yu-Fong! Have you finished the article about Sunrise Boulevard? The tutor wants it on her desk tomorrow morning,” asked Wu Chin. “Hmm, I still need to polish the last few lines. The people I visited and talked with last month wrote me letters, and there were some intriguing turns of the high school legend,” replied I slowly.

Sociolinguistic Competence

Sociolinguistic Competence

Some say it’s important
Some say it depends
I say everyone has it
At least in his or her first language
Never judge
Because it doesn’t mean
Being stupid
If a person lacks of it
In a specific setting
Sociolinguistic competence
May be problematic
When it comes to learning English
Yet I suggest
Learning style and critical thinking
Should be taken seriously
From the very beginning


Written by Jerski Bjorksen

Random Thought

Soul

Colourless it may be
Yet the essence is full
Of life experience

Wisdom

Not everyone has it
Even age does have some influence
On you and me

Beauty

Is it prejudice or preference
Neurons might elucidate
In a way that surprises
The entire humanity

Happiness

I believe
It embraces both spiritual and temporal
Components
Attitude also has its role
Success is probably just a result

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Cocaine in the brain

In the recent issue of Scientific American Mind (April/May, 2008), an article discussed new remedies against cocaine addiction. The major idea is to hijack the part of the brain, ventral tegmental area (VTA), responsible for pleasure and reward. When we eat delicious food, have sex, or participate in other exciting activities, neurons in VTA will release the chemical messenger, or neurotransmitter, dopamine. Then dopamine will send its message to the recipient neurons, which results in feelings of delight, arousal, or what people nowadays would call ‘high’.

When a person uses cocaine, dopamine transporters on the endings of VTA neurons would be blocked and the reuptake of dopamine prevented, leaving dopamine to build up in the brain. When the concentration of dopamine reaches double or ten times of the ordinary amount, the neurotransmitter will keep stimulating the receiving neurons, thus producing euphoria.

In the past, researchers tried to target dopamine or its receptor to remedy drug addiction but found that there were some malignant side effects. Now scientists turn to other neurotransmitters such as glutamate and gamma-aminobutyric acid (GABA) in hopes to either satisfy addicts’ cravings or dampen reward responses in VTA. Another potential remedy is to tap the body’s immune system to target cocaine circulating in the blood. “Because the cocaine molecules are too small to provoke a strong immune response, developers link the drug to larger molecules, such as a bacterial toxin, that powerfully invigorate immune cells” (p.57) Hence some of the cells give out antibodies against the attached cocaine molecules, which is to prevent cocaine from going into the brain whenever a person takes it.

At the end of this essay, Nora D. Volkow, director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) said that “We can be at the mercy of drugs that inflict damage to brain tissue representing control functions.” However, I think the root of the problem lies in whether people are taught and warned of the danger from using drugs such as cocaine. Because we would likely become almost helpless in terms of kicking the habit after the uptake of cocaine or similar substances, that is why many countries have enacted laws against illegal drug use. The ripple effect of this drug is beyond many people’s imagination. We can look at the Chinese history at the end of Ching Dynasty. When a population was inflicted by opium, the entire nation was in jeopardy. If people know it is against the law and the consequence of using those drugs would lead to health damage, criminal act, let alone colossal expenses related to treatments, then whoever still does so should be held responsible for their own behavior even they will become ‘uncontrollable’ later on.

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Spin

Spin

I wonder why
Days rush by
Without turning back
On this island white
Flip a coin
Heads or tails
A feeling cannot die
A decision isn’t mine
Only
I wonder again
Blue skies never fade
Green rivers always hide
And my thoughts spin
In the silence of night

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

微酸

微酸

午夜的海風
初夏的寂靜
有一種微酸的感覺
空氣中的分子
是自由意識
還是生命不可或缺的元素
我已釐不清界線
文字和心境的結合
怎也逃不出思念的範疇
我以為自己會很坦然
卻忘不了
你那湛藍的眼神
嘴角的喜悅
及綠色的盤中宴

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Devaluation

Devaluation

It’s awlays a battle
Native versus non-native speakers
It is nature or nurture
Subconscious or intentional
Language can’t say it all
Devaluation
One should not let others impose
Upon his or her soul
Hidden talents you might have
Clear skies you can draw yourself
So tell those arrogant people
GET LOST

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Invisible Painting

Invisible Painting

Whispered in the breeze
The rain’s story
A spell of sunshine
In an old glory
Hundreds of blue lilies
Smiled at the descent
Of summery eve
Brush and easel
Feeling and creativity
Merged
Your voice from my dream
And the whistling of crickets


Written by JerSki BjorkSen

April Snow

April Snow

What do I have to write
In twenty seconds
The beginning of spring
Friends’ birthdays and mine
Sunshine was outside
Yesterday
Yet April snow fell
As a surprise
Today
This is the weather
One can find
In a country like England

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Spring Light

Spring Light

Snowflakes twirled
In a repetition
The moment arrived
Clandestinely
Yellow daffodils
Your tenderness
Shone in the spring light
Chanting the end of wintry white
Another circle of life
Awaited
Thousands of passersby


Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Chapter 8

They said
Time could heal
They said
Memory would fail
My soul was once caged
My heart never changed


Once I got back to Taipei, I immediately wrote a letter and sent it out to the indicated address. Two weeks later I found a letter quietly, lying on my desk when I returned from the evening school class. I was thrilled to see the mail because I recognized the neat hand writing right away.

In my letter to Yang Dong-Yu, I asked him whether he still dreamt of being a pilot apart from many other questions I had for me. In his mail, he told me he was studying very hard and hoping to pass the college entrance exam. Meanwhile, he was working part-time at a local café. He actually lived by himself, only went back to visit his grandma once in a while. I was happy for him but at the same time wondered how he actually pulled himself together to overcome the difficulties.

I promised to pay him a visit once we finished the college entrance exam the following summer. Although school life got more and more hectic, my good friend never left my mind. We communicated via letters several times that year. I even called him twice on the phone.

Then July came surreptitiously. Thousands of high school graduates were anxious to get the college entrance exam done. I was no exception. The first day of the exam, I had Chinese, English, and math tests. The next day I had chemistry, physics, and science tests. The exams seemed to go well; and I was relieved afterward. The scorching sun was beaming fervently outside with the unbearable humidity in the air. Beads of sweat fell down like a facet on each passerby on the street. Yet a chill came up from my spine, giving me unexplainable creeps. I didn’t know what that was and decided to brush it aside.


It was a usual hot summer morning. I rode the express train down to the south and then switched to a bus. It literally took me 7 hours to get to Ping-Tung. When I arrived at the bus station, Yang Dong-Yu was there already. He looked so tanned and tall. I would say at least 185 cm. The smile on his face brought me back some old memory. I waved at him and greeted with a firm handshake. That night he showed me around at the night market. We ate steak with noodles on a steaming hot iron plate and some taro pearl milk tea.

The house Yang Dong-Yu was staying located in a quiet alley. The neighbourhood was very clean; only occasionally one or two stray dogs would show up and scavenge for food.

Later in the night, Yang Dong-Yu and I lay down and started to chat. He gave me his bed and slept on the floor. I was embarrassed but I knew that was how we treated a good friend in our culture. After all we were very close friends. The first question I had for him was whether he was happy. I knew it was a silly question but I couldn’t help. He told me with his eyes closed, “I have never been happier than now. I once thought my life was a curse but guess what? If God or Buddha wants me to be in this world, there must be a reason. So, I am going to live for myself, not anyone else.”

The three-day visit was really a blast. We went to the beach and swam in the ocean. The southern part of Formosa was truly breathtaking. I loved the smell of the sea and fresh seafood. By the time, I was about to go home, I felt that chill coming up from my spine again. This time it struck me for a few minutes.

Chapter 7

If I could
I would turn back
If I could
I would run away
Every story has its end
But yours never had


The minute I got the brown envelop, my whole body started to shake like I was about to jump off a steep cliff. I recognized Yang Dong-Yu’s neat handwriting on the envelope although the ink had faded to almost a blur. The old lady smiled at me and said I could stay a little longer at her house if I wanted. But I just thanked her and walked out briskly.

I came to the front yard of our old house, sitting on the bamboo bench made by grandpa decades ago. Gingerly I ripped off the top of the envelope and pulled out six pages of paper. The letter was written in calligraphy. I was always amazed by how beautiful Yang Dong-Yu’s calligraphy was when we were in elementary school. He won so many prizes in competitions. I took a deep breath before I started reading.

“Huang Chih-Hao, I’m sorry I never replied your letters and cards; and I am sure by the time you received this envelope time had passed by at least three or four years…” I continued to read and many of my questions began to be answered. After I moved to Taipei, Yang Dong-Yu attended the local junior high and also was forced by his father to work at the breakfast shop. He had to get up at 4 o’clock and get ready for work and school. He said he was very pleased to receive my letters and hand-made cards. The reason he didn’t reply to me was that his heart ached so much and every time he penned down something he tore it apart afterwards. Then he went on his story as:

“Do you recall the time I tried to run away and hid at the tree hut we built in the woods? That was the very first time I attempted to escape because life was so hard to deal with. I’m going to tell you my deepest and saddest secret. I am a bastard, a pathetic and never-should-be-born weirdo. My real mother was actually my father’s sister. I didn’t know that until I was six. Because my grandmother only had two children, she spoiled them very much. My dad fell in love with his sister when he was in high school. One night he sneaked into his sister’s room and raped her. My grandmother found out but didn’t do anything. Of course my mother was devastated and wanted to die. But my grandma threatened her with the whole family honour thing and her own life too. Certainly that was a scandalous and ugly domestic affair no one would want to divulge. So the secret was kept for many years. Then one day my father’s sister got pregnant and that’s how I came to this earth. Not long after I was born, my mother died of haemophilia. Can you imagine that? My father was married at the time and Hui-Ching was already two years old. That’s why Hui-Ching’s mother left my father. My grandma really liked me a lot because she said she could see her daughter’s eyes in mine. I had a fond memory in Ping-Tung until we moved to Taitung. The night you and teacher escorted me home was the beginning of my worst nightmare. As you know my father was alcoholic and his temper was horrible, I was constantly under his curse. Every night he would hit me with the rattan stick and called my names, saying how humiliating I was to him. Then he lost his control and took me to his room and forced me to touch his private part and even demanded me to give him an oral job. I was scared and didn’t want to upset him, so I obeyed what he said. Gees, what did I know? I was only 10 years old. The worst was yet to come. In the following years, he basically abused me every night. Sometimes it hurt so much that I couldn’t even walk and my behind was in pain all the time…” My tears just rolled down uncontrollably. I had no idea that was my good friend’s life. I couldn’t say I understood what he had been through. Only those who have been abused could really understand the pain, I guessed.

Yang Dong-Yu went on telling the miserable days he had. Eventually he escaped the hell when his grandma came to Taitung for a visit one year during Chinese New Year holidays. “I guess I would never be the same child, right? Many a time, I wanted to take my own life but I thought of my real mother’s death and Hui-Ching and Hui-Ming and my dear grandma. At times I hated my grandma for her incapability to prevent such a tragedy from happening in the Yang family. But I didn’t choose to come to this world this way. You know I love reading. I knew I could ask for help but I was afraid to be the one who stigmatize the entire family. Life is too short; and I don’t want to end like this…”

In the end, he told me how much he loved my cards and the English poems I wrote. I found an address enclosed in the letter. I held back my tears and gave a last look at our childhood street, playground right next to the Catholic monastery, and tugged the envelope in my jacket. I was determined to find Yang Dong-Yu’s whereabouts as soon as I returned to Taipei.

Chapter 6

Separate ways
It might lead
Different worlds
We might have
Friendship
Should never be
Erased


I spent the following two months in Taipei with grandma and aunt Yuan. I enjoyed ice cream and shaved ice sold by the shop downstairs. The water park was the high light of my summer vacation. I just loved the thrill plunging into cold water. The crowd was not too bad, mainly children around my age. I was anxious to see the new school I would be attending in the autumn. The old school in Taitung and teacher’s face seemed to fade after the two-month’s time. Yet I often thought about what Yang Dong-Yu was doing and whether he was fine.

Right before the New Year, I sent a card, made by myself, to Yang Dong-Yu and waited impatiently for his reply. One week, two weeks and a month had passed. I didn’t get anything back. I thought about calling him but dropped the idea, fearing that it would be his father answering the call. As school life went on, I was busy with all kinds of activities in this big city. The passion about language grew little by little in me. Eventually I was ‘hooked’! I would spend hours and hours reading English books and pretending I was living in the United States. But English was not my only passion. I also loved Judo and a secret hobby-reading cooking books and writing up my own recipes.

After junior high, I went to another school in Taipei. My family still went back to Taitung once a year. But the few times I was there, I never saw Yang Dong-Yu. Later I realized he returned to Ping-Tung to live with his grandma. However, Yang Yu-Fong kept living in Taitung and seemed to drink more and more. As for Yang Hui-Ching and Yang Hui-Ming, they were forced to drop out of school after junior high. I heard they worked in a pineapple factory, trying to support the family. I never saw them when I visited our old house.

The summer vacation of my second year in high school, I went back for a visit again. The banyan trees looked the same, even the azalea bushes were still there. But the friends I used to have were nowhere to be found. As I walked around the neighbourhood, I noticed an old lady in ragged clothes. She looked familiar to me but I couldn’t make out who she was. When she saw me, she called out my name, “Ai-ya-ya, Huang Chih-Hao! It’s you! My god, look at you, a totally different person now! So tall and very strong too!” I was blushed by her comment. Then I suddenly remembered she was the breakfast shop owner. But why did she look so ‘poor’? After a brief exchange of words, I found out she wasn’t poor, she just didn’t care after her two sons died in a fire. She said money was useless; it couldn’t buy her sons back.

I was quite saddened to hear her story; and as I was about to say good-bye to her, she held my right hand and said, “I have something for you. It’s been at my house for 4 years. It’s a brown envelop left by Yang Dong-Yu. Do you still remember him? He used to work for me, helping to set up the breakfast shop in the morning before he went to school…” I was surprised to learn that Yang Dong-Yu had left something for me. Why didn’t he just send it to me? Why did he leave it to the old lady not someone in my family? All of sudden I had many unanswered questions.

Chapter 5

Cottonwood flowers
Dabbed the nostalgia
On my journey
The face of Mount Peace
A dace in the wind
Who has stolen
Your naivety


The day of our graduation fell on a Saturday. Parents and relatives were invited to join the ceremony and the open house planned by the school. All the graduates sat in the front row and the rest of the school in the back. The right side of the auditorium was reserved for VIPs. Everyone wore a red flower on his or her chest. Everywhere you went you bumped into flowers and banners which were used to decorate the entire campus. It was an important day for us, the sixth graders. When the principal introduced the best student of the year, a thunder of applause roared across the whole auditorium. Then Yang Dong-Yu stood up and walked straight up to the podium. He first bowed to the principal and then the other teachers sitting next to him.

“Today is our big day, an honourable moment we shall never forget. Education is the door not only to knowledge but also morality and values, which make us different from other spices…” Every one was listening attentively and at the same time amazed how a speech like that could be delivered by this brilliant 12-year-old. Of course the speech was polished by our teacher but I heard Yang Dong-Yu basically wrote the talk himself. He went on talking about his dream, saying that he wanted to be a pilot when he grew up. He thanked his father for the opportunity he had to go to school. Of course Yang Yu-Fong was not at the ceremony; only Yang Hui-Ching was there.

“How could he still thank his father after all what he has done to him?” asked I inconceivably in my little mind. “Did he lose his mind or what? Was he being too naïve or completely insane?” as I ruminated over his words. I must ask him I told myself. After the ceremony, I ran to Yang Dong-Yu, telling him I needed to talk to him. He grinned at me and said ok. “Why did you still thank your father after what he did to you and your sisters?” asked I bluntly. “What did he do? What did you know? No matter what, he is STILL my father! Do you understand? Without him, there would never be US, me and my siblings!” retorted he. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to judge but I thought…” “You thought what? You have no right to criticize my father. Perhaps you meant well but please stay out of this,” getting more impatiently as he spurted out these sentences. “I just hope you are happy and safe,” said I with a heavy sigh.

My heart sank to the bottom of the Pacific as I walked home that day. I thought the sky had also turned its back to me; gray colour was filled in every object reflected on my irises. I was trying to show my concern. Was it too much? I recalled an old saying in Chinese: Only mind the snow in front of your door, don’t even bother the frost on the roof of others. Wasn’t that selfishness? Wasn’t that what made us so cruel and lack of altruism in society? Perhaps I was the only person who was too naïve? I wanted to cry but I did not. Instead, I pulled out the English textbook for the junior high and started to learn the alphabets…

Chapter 4

Blue eyes
Reflect the colour
Of skies
Rain drops
Carry my burden
Falling into the Pacific
Strength is draining
Mind is fighting
I’m no longer the same child


“Where do you think he would go?” asked the teacher. “ I don’t know. It’s dark already. I hope he is okay,” replied I. Then my head was spinning and mind racing in hopes to find any possibility where Yang Dong-Yu might be. Suddenly a thought popped up. I told the teacher we usually went to the “Hunting Woods” on Wednesday afternoon. There was a tree hut we built a while back. Teacher and I then urgently took off. We rode our bikes with a flashlight attached to the front. The balmy weather with a bit of cool breeze made the evening actually quite pleasant but I had no mood to enjoy all of this. All I wanted to know was where Yang Dong-Yu was!

By the time we arrived at the tree hut. A dim light was flickering; and I knew it was Yang Dong-Yu. “Oh, thank God you’re here!” cried out the teacher. “How did you know I’m here?” “It’s me who told the teacher. We were very worried about you because you didn’t go to school,” responded I. Strangely enough, I didn’t see any sadness on Yang Dong-Yu’s face. He was there like that was his room. On the way home, three of us didn’t say a word. Teacher kept peddling his bike until we arrived Yang Dong-Yu’s house. That night Yang Yu-Fong was totally drunk and fell asleep on the couch. Teacher and I said good-bye to Yang Dong-Yu and his sisters. Then we left quietly.

“How dare you! Running away from home! You think your ‘wings’ are strong enough, huh?” as Yang Yu-Fong questioned Yang Dong –Yu harshly the next morning. Yang Dong-Yu just stood there, listening to his father because he knew if he said anything back he would get beaten and kicking and slapping. “Don’t you ever run away again or I will hang you up high and whip you to death!” storming out the living room Yang Yu-Fong after leaving these horrific words. Yang Dong-Yu was trembling but he told himself everything would be all right. He walked out to the front yard, gazing at the blue sky. There were some pigeons flying over the trees and an aeroplane on the other side of the white cloud. He pictured himself flying that aeroplane, going to various exotic foreign lands…

After that running-away event, Yang Dong-Yu never came to play with us on Wednesday. I sometimes rode my bike, passing their house to check if he would be in the front yard; but I never spotted him. At school, he withdrew into his own little world, drawing pictures, all kinds of jets and aeroplanes. I tried to invite him over to our house; yet all he said was his father would not allow him to play…

Chapter 3

In light emerges hope
In darkness hides
A ferocious wolf
Dialogue
Pierces through
The wall of memory
Leaving a scar
Of the haunting past


Elementary school life was full of adventures because every Wednesday afternoon we didn’t have school at all. After finishing homework, Yang Dong-Yu and I would ‘summoned’ other buddies to embark upon the forbidden forest nearby, a place we called “Hunting Woods”.

The early autumn in the southern part of Formosa was still very warm. Along the “Monkey River” stood an array of farm houses. Almost each one of them was surrounded by two or three ponds in which many fish were fighting to get fresh air on the hot days. Reeds were everywhere on the small trek winding through the “Hunting Woods”. We loved to explore the unknown territory and build fire to grill sweet potatoes. Sometimes we were lucky to find watermelons in the open field and delicious wild berries in the bushes. The most exciting part would be water fight in the natural swimming pond formed after typhoons.

“Tell us what you used to do in Ping-Tung, Yang Dong-Yu!” said Lin Yi-Yi. “Oh, the usual things, playing baseball, going swimming, jumping rope and playing ping-pong, but I have never played like this in the woods, so this is really fun!” replied Yang Dong-Yu. As we were about to jump into the pond and catch some tadpoles, Lin Yi-Yi shouted “Ahhh, what is that on your back?” pointing at Yang Dong-Yu as he took off his T-shirt. “You look like a backbeater in the yearly Taoist parade! What happened?” asked I. “Hmm, nothing, I…I didn’t obey my dad’s words and he…” said Yang Dong-Yu. “ Never mind, let’s go swimming now, don’t worry, okay?” A silence ran across every one of us but soon we were playing joyously in water.

At dusk, we headed home and passed by Yang Dong-Yu’s house first. As we were at the entrance where banyan trees stood, Yang Dong-Yu’s father was waiting with a thick rattan stick in hand. The blood-shot eyes and an impatience look showed his cranky temper was at the boiling point. We were scared and flinched. The next day, I didn’t see Yang Dong-Yu at school, so I went to the teacher and told him what we saw yesterday. Our teacher got very worried and decided to pay a visit to Yang Dong Yu’s family in the evening. “Can I come too? I live only two doors away?” asked I. “Sure thing, you come with teacher at 6 o’clock before the dinner time, okay?” said the teacher.

“What did you say? That dead rabbit did not go to school today?” said angrily Yang Yu-Fong. The air in the house was full of rice wine; and a dozen of empty bottles scattered in the living room. I could hear Yang Hui-Ching and Yang Hui-Ming whispering in another room but soon fell into dead silence. “I gave him 20 dollars to buy me breakfast in the morning and afterwards he was off for school…” said Yang Yu-Fong. Now this got all of us very concerned. Where could he go? Did he get hurt yesterday? Did he run away?

Chapter 2

I have no magic
Turning wine into water
I am no saint
Being able to forgive
Every pain you made
Vulnerability
I did have
But it never prevailed



School outing was always something we were eager to have. I remember being unable to sleep the night before the big day, tossing over and over in bed, thinking about what we were going to see, the snacks I bought, and of course the box lunch! Yes, it was important to have a good box lunch full of vegetables, meat (chicken or pork), and a hard boiled egg. Speaking of the eggs, mom would always boil them first and take off the shells and soak in soy sauce with anise and other spices, simmering for hours. It was out of the world!

It was a sunny morning in the early autumn. I woke up and got dressed immediately, rushing to do my toiletry routine, then shouldering my backpack, and running to Dong-Yu’s house. “ Yang Dong-Yu! Are you ready to go?” shouted breathlessly as I arrived at their home. “ Hush! My father is still sleeping. Let’s go! My sisters have taken off already” said Dong-Yu.

On the way to school, I saw people were lining up at the one and only grocery shop in our neighbourhood, buying breakfast pickles. I kept swallowing saliva in thinking of those delicious dishes. Then we ran into a classmate whose mother always prepared him a lot of stuff for outings. And certainly the whole class became beneficiaries. That day we rode a bus to a ranch and then hiked all the way to Mount Peace. Teacher led us to play some games in groups. All I thought was when we were going to eat lunch. By noon, we were hungry and sweating like a dog although it was autumn, but an “autumn tiger” (Indian summer).

“Hey, Huang Chih-Hao, Yang Dong-Yu, do you guys want to join us under that tree for lunch?” asked Lin Yi-Yi, pointing at the verdant tree right next to a stream. “Sure! We’d love to!” replied I and Dong-Yu unanimously. As we started to ‘attack’ our sack of food, I saw Yang Dong-Yu pulling out something wrapped in newspapers. He unfolded layers and layers of papers and said “Do you know what this is?” “What ?” said the rest four of us. “ Hehe, it’s frozen juice! I wrapped it in the old newspapers; and look it is now still icy cold!” I reached out my right hand and touched the can, saying “Wow, it is really cold. So nice to have that on this warm day! You are so smart!” “My mom taught us this when we were in Ping-Tung. I was only five years old but I still remember this trick,” said proudly Dong-Yu.
As usual, we liked to compare what we had in our box lunch. “See my mom cooked me the best chicken leg and fried noodles!” Lin Yi-Yi said with a jolly tone. “Yeah, mine was dumplings and pickles” said another classmate. “What do you have, Yang Dong-Yu?” asked I. He was hesitant for a second and then gladly replied, “A Japanese flag! Plain white rice with a red candied plum! Isn’t it pretty?” “Oh my goodness! Why you don’t have anything else?” asked Lin Yi-Yi. Yang Dong-Yu answered that his father only gave him and his sisters each five dollars for shopping. We all sighed unbelievably.

That day in my life I first realized the difference between my friend’s world and mine. That day I asked many questions regarding Yang Dong-Yu’s family. That day he told me he wish he could turn wine into water so his father would not be drunk the whole day and get mad at him and his sisters and whip them with the leather belt. That day was also the first time I wept for a friend and I saw tears welled up in his eyes too…

Chapter 1

Lunar calendar
Day 15 of each month
The full moon rises
But my heart sinks
To the bottom of an abyss…


“Okay, hold the rocket firmly and slightly twist it when you serve…” explained patiently Hui-Ching. “You must concentrate and always plan two steps in advance because the ball comes back fast.”
I nodded gently with all my strength gathered up to learn from this ping-pong master.
As I was trying to hit the ball back to Hui-Ching, the postman suddenly showed up with a big grin. “ Yang Hui-Ching! Letters! Gees! Another bundle of letters from Ping-Tung! How many have you gotten already?” asked the postman with beads of sweat on his forehead on this late summer afternoon.

Hui-Ching’s family just moved to our town a month ago. Apparently she was very popular in her class because each of her classmates wrote her a letter. As far as I was concerned, she had already received thirty five letters and twenty cards so far. Their house was two doors away from ours. The old banyan trees stood highly around the house, forming a natural fence thick enough to cut off any uninvited guests, especially the stray dogs in the neighborhood. I liked to play with Hui-Ching and her younger brother, Dong-Yu, and little sister, Hui-Ming. We would all go to the same elementary school in the fall. I was hoping Dong-Yu and I would be in the same class as we were both 10 years old. Hui-Ching was going to be in grade 6, Hui-Ming, grade 2.
“Hmm we have to stop here today as my dad was about to wake up from his nap,” said Hui-Ching while checking her pink wrist watch. “Perhaps we could play tomorrow after you finish your homework.” “Yeah, that would be nice. I must finish the calligraphy writing and some math exercises,” sighed I.

I loved summer vacations but teachers always gave you homework to do, so I didn’t really play all the time. The kids in our neighborhood all knew each other as our parents were quite familiar with one another. Now I look back, that was really something people don’t find in big city nowadays; even next-door neighbors don’t greet because they might not know who lives right next to them at all.

That year when we started the fall semester, I found out Dong-Yu and I were in the same class. We were so happy, shouting for joy and rushing to the shop to buy some strawberry popsicles for celebration after school.

“What are you doing? Moron! What in the world is wrong with your head?” shouted loudly Hui-Ching’s father as he used his right index finger angrily poking at Hui-Ching’s temple, almost knocked her out of balance. “Ai-ya, I’ve told you when cooking milk fish, you must pour some oil in the pan first and wait until it gets very hot and then you gently slide down the fish! So, the skin will not stick to the pan, UNDERSTAND?” “I just want to…” before Hui-Ching could finish, a slap came across her face faster than a lightning. “No excuses! And don’t even try to talk back to me!” yelled her father. “Now wash the pan and re-do everything! Hurry up! I want my dinner ready in half an hour!” Yang Yu-Fong, Hui-Ching’s father, walked out the kitchen and resumed to his wine-drinking. The cranky lad was addicted to alcohol ever since his wife divorced him five years ago. I heard he used to be a chef at a five-star hotel in the south but lost his passion after his wife left him for another guy. The drinking issue added another deadly bomb to his inherent bad temper in the family. Of course he didn’t know that and would never realize it even after his death.

Emotional Amygdala

Emotion is one of the most significant factors that triggers complex human behaviours ; and the cerebral part regulating this special attribute is called amygdala. It is an almond-shaped brain part which processes fear and other emotions in our brain.

In a research conducted by Ahmad R. Hariri (2002), the transporter gene that amydgdala enlivened was studied via fMRI. The result showed that people who had inherited at least one copy of short transporter gene demonstrated the influence of amydgdala by emotive faces. On the contrary, subjects with two long forms of transporter gene showed less active activity.

Recent research done by Turhan Canli suggests that those who have inherited the short serotonin transporter gene are more easily aroused even just by seeing negative words. However, this does not mean that people with the short transporter gene will beget depression easily unless the environment in which they live also conspires against them.

Thus, both biological and environmental factors are determining in a person’s onset of depression. Certainly there are various drugs that can regulate serotonin in our brain but I wonder how much people can do in terms of their own will and support gained from other family members and friends and to what extent these can help reduce depression.

One thing I found interesting in this article ( Scientific American Mind Feb/Mar 2008) is the explanation of “Serotonin Switch”. It reminded me of my short stay at UDT, the behavioural neuroscience I took…

Serotonin Switch

“ Throughout the nervous system, serotonin passes between neurons in a chemical process that can influence mood, sleep or cognition, among other brain and body functions. At the small gaps between neurons called synapses, a so-called pre-synaptic neuron secretes this neurotransmitter, which promptly crosses the divide, or synaptic cleft. The postsynaptic neuron receives the serotonin via specialized chemically excited or inhibited. The neuron the reverts to its original state after serotonin transporters capture the remaining serotonin from the synaptic cleft and return to the presynaptic cell in a process called reuptake.” By Turhan Canli.

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Cutting Rain

Cutting Rain

Thousands of lines
Myriads of signs
Which one is mine
I’ve lost mind
Reflection from a mirror
Songs of the Beatles
For what reason
You like
Cutting rain
I tried in vain
Clouds in the wind
I wish I could lie
Eyes are blurred
Words were tied
Never hide
Feeling
I couldn’t help
But forsake
Sigh…

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Naïve Smile

Naïve Smile

Thought flows in a green river
Turning right and left
Jumping up and down
Sight freezes on a blue mountain
Eliciting opaque clouds
Summoning dancing clowns
Naïve smile
Is no longer found
In this chaotic era
The new millennium
Nations are at war
Minds of people are distraught
What does peace feel like
When was the last time
You kneed down
Listening to the nature
Playing its drum


Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Dialogue

“Money can’t buy love! Money can’t buy happiness!”
“ Yeah, sounds like truth.”
“ But human brain is an interesting organ, you know?”
“According to newest research and fMRI, money actually does make people feel happier because when people have money, they can buy things they dream of, thus making them feel happier…”
“Really? That’s weird, contrary to conventional belief, huh? Then again, what’s happiness? It depends on individuals, I suppose.”
“Agree. But I think without satisfaction of basic needs, such as food and lodging, it is hard to pursue another level of happiness, meaning spirituality!”
“ I also found it absurd when those religious fanatics trying to impose their faith upon others. I'll say it is nobody’s business when it comes to belief…”
“Yeah, what is good to you not necessarily good to others!”
“So, what’s the purpose of life?”
“ Oh, that’s a complex question. I seldom think beyond tomorrow!” (trying to laugh)
“Well, if you feel happy about that, nothing is wrong, you know.”
“ Uh-huh…”

If I could
I would like to walk along
The surface of brain
Folds of highs and lows
Zigzagging the globe
Paths of inputs and outputs
Involving millions of neurons
Synaptic connections
A natural phenomenon
Too much or little
Will trigger imbalance of chemistry
Isn’t life similar in that regard
Balance is no doubt the ultimate factor
Rendering happiness
In the limbic system
If I could
I would love to see
My own universe
Functioning in its equilibrium

A Step Back

A Step Back

Emotion triggered
By a turmoil
Fallacy planted
In a mind so fogged
Is it inadvertently surfaced
Or subliminally staged
A step back
Looking from the past
Spike can be oval
Green turns into scarlet
Ocean is ocean
Ocean isn’t ocean
Ocean is still ocean
Says the wise man
At a sunny bay

Written by JerSki Bjorksen


Long time ago, on the east coast of a remote island lived a curious boy. He liked to look at the sky in the evening and waited for shooting stars. Teacher always said to him that only studying hard and getting good grades could lead a better life in the future. But many years later, the boy had grown up to a man. Things changed; reality is not just black and white. Perhaps a step back isn’t that bad. At least it gives a person some moments to contemplate and re-plan…

Consternation

Consternation

Picturesque scenes catch
An array of misinterpretation
Verbal or kinesthetic
Mental or corporeal
Blue sky chooses to leash
Consternation
Arrives suddenly
In my head
Over the horizon
I see
A misty image
Fading
Spinning
And erasing
The past or present
I wish
It was not the future
I dreamt

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

February

February

Pouring rain splashed
Across the unusually green lake
Greeting cards became oblivious
To travellers in a foreign land
Which date is it
I have lost track
February
The only trace I get
Family and friends
Reunion and parades
Where is my heart
Going to stay
On this melancholy day
I pray it will soon end

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Identity

Identity

A granule of sand
Hides a world of foreign game
Enigmatic silhouettes scurry across
Ocean prairie and no man’s land
Give or take
Which shall determine pain
Identity
I try to delineate
In this universe
Whether productive or additive
Theories can’t explain every trend
Reality is sometimes hard to face
Yet lively burns the essence of fate


Written by JerSki BjorkSen

With or Without You

I got e-mail from a publishing company, saying they would like to publish my poetry. Oh well, although I have written over 100 poems, I still want to wait for a little while. Besides, I do not have extra cash doing that right now…

Spending almost the whole day in the computer lab at school, reading books, collecting references for my dissertation. To be honest, I feel my first semester was a joke, really. I despise dishonesty!! Anyway, I chose to move on and self-improve in areas I’d like to know better.

I love U2’s ‘With or Without You’. This song reminds me of an old friend far away in the east. When the sun was about to hide his face, the orange- red colour spilled all over the sky, leaving a trace of mundane thought behind the wheel across the western wilderness. The boulevard to lost secrets emerged without hesitation…

With or without you
Life will still move on
The sun will rise once more
Even thousands of nightmares lurk inside my head
With or without you
I choose to let go
Although fate seems to seal
The last drop of drew
As I look back
Fond memory replays
So fast
I almost can’t catch
The lyric composed
By your hands
With or without you
Tomorrow will be a new day
I say to myself again and again

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Mindset of Democracy

Mindset of Democracy

It takes
Not only time
But also mindset
Democracy
An ideology of human society
Forming in a battle
Between captivity and free agency
What lacks usually
Is engagement and responsibility
Self-complaining would never achieve
Real participation must be activated
If we want a government without corruption
It needs
Not only belief
But also education
Rome wasn’t built in a day
Therefore
How can we expect dictatorship
To be demolished immediately
How can we anticipate something
That requires more than extrinsic change

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Great-grandfather

When I was five years old, great-grandfather lived with us a few months a year. He wasn’t always home. All I knew was he traveled a lot, either visiting friends or gambling somewhere. He studied Chinese medicine and could give prescriptions to others. I remembered seeing many of his old medicine books, which were written in Chinese calligraphy.

Great-grandfather didn’t like to work although he was intelligent and literate. At his time, those who could read and write gained a very high social status. Unfortunately, we, as great-grandchildren, never got close with him because he had such a horrific temper, like a walking bomb, which could be set off anytime of the day!

There are only bits and pieces of memory about great-grandfather from my childhood. I recall one of the episodes a long time ago.

“So, how come we have a stainless steel lunch box at home from the railway company? Shouldn’t people return those when they finish eating on the train?” asked I.
“Oh, you don’t know how smart I am. I just put it into my satchel and pretended sleeping when the clerk walked back and forth to collect others’ boxes.”
“But that was stealing!” shouted I.
A slap came across my face like a lightning before I could react.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“How dare you, talking to me like that, you little brat! Remember I’m your great-grandfather!”
“But…but teachers at school always…” Another slap came my way but I dodged with a jolt of instinct.
“Hahaha, not bad not bad, I guess I’ve taught you well! Never stand there like a cadaver, letting others hurt you. But you could’ve defended yourself by a punch!”
“Could I really?” I asked with awe.
“Of course NOT! Silly-egg! I’m still your great-grandfather!”
“Now tell me what you’ve learned in school today?”
“Oh the usual things, math, Chinese, history, science, and music. I am good at math.”
“Umm, that’s great. Math is good for your logical thinking. But don’t forget to memorize Chinese poetry and practice calligraphy everyday!”
“Okay, but why did you ‘borrow’ the lunch box from the train?” asked I cautiously.
“Ai-yah, you never give up, huh? I think the ticket was too expensive and the lunch was disgusting, so the box was something I could take home for all the money I paid. Those bastards ripped off people with outrageous ticket fare and lousy food!”
“But that was still wrong!”
Now I could see fire burning in great-grandpa’s eyes and the walking cane in his right hand was about to lift, and so were my trembling legs…
“You CAN’T take away things that don’t belong to you!” crying out loud as I ran from a major disaster.
“Confucius said: righteous people gain wealth via righteous means!” shouted I more loudly.
“Confucius my arse! He is a dead old fart! You come back here, bastard!”

I guessed many nerves and cells on my face and in the brain died due to the gruesome dialogues and action films we played. Sometimes I wondered why he behaved the way he did.

Once a shrewd man, now a feeble being with dementia

On an early spring morning, I woke, brushed teeth, washed my face, and was about to eat breakfast. Suddenly, I heard a glass-shattered sound coming from the kitchen.
“Ai-yah, who put my false teeth in the rice bowl?” said angrily great-grandfather.
I quickly went into the kitchen and tried to sweep the broken pieces of the ceramic bowl.
“Didn’t you put them in the bowl last night? You always do that before going to bed!” said I.
“Nonsense! How can’t I remember if I put them in the bowl? It’s you, right?”
“Umm, I never touch those. They look creepy to me!”
“Creepy? You said I’m creepy?”
“No no, I meant the teeth.”
“Where is your mother? I need to talk to her!” shouted furiously great-grandpa.
“She is at the market, selling vegetables.”
“Where is your father?”
“Well, he is at work.”
“Then why are you home? Shouldn’t you be at school with your siblings?”
“Umm, I had a cold and mother wanted me to stay home for rest.” Now my feet were getting weak.
“Cold? Rest? I think you’re just avoiding school and being lazy!”
“That’s not true!” I retorted.
“What now? Raising voice like that? You want to argue with me?”
“No, I don’t dare, I’m just stating the fact…” as I stared at my feet as if they were not mine.
“Stating my arse! I think you ARE fabricating the fact!”
As I tried to defend myself again, I saw a twist of muscle around the eyes of great-grandpa.
“WHO the heck are you, anyway? Why are you in my house?”
“What? I am your great-grandson!”
“Bullshit! I’ve never seen you before! And I don’t have any great-grandchildren!”
“Oh my god, what happened to you, great-grandpa?”
“Stop calling me great-grandpa! Get the hell out of my house or I will KILL you!”
As the old man grabbed the knife on the chopping board, ready to charge, I fled like a frightened antelope being chased by a ferocious leopard.

Police

The first time I heard ‘Every breath you take’ from Police, I was probably in the elementary school. Because my sisters loved English songs, I often heard them play music in the house. Of course, I had no idea what Sting was singing back then, but I was deeply attracted to the melody. Regardless of the sad story hidden in the lyric, I still find this song very charming. Perhaps it brings back some of my old memories with my siblings.

Thanks to Youtube, now people can search anything they want to listen to and watch. That’s how I get my listen to Police from time to time. By the way, I’m reading Amy Tan’s ‘The Bonesetter’s Daughter’ now. It’s a book I’ve known for a long time but never gotten a chance to read. Last week, S. and his friend and I went for a walk along the beach and saw this second-hand book stand. I spotted the book and decided to buy it. I always love Amy Tan not only she has Chinese roots but also her writing style reminds me of Chi-June, a renown writer, from China who had lived in Taiwan for many years. I recall reading her books growing up, picturing someday I would travel to China, visiting those breathtaking scenery.

There is always a lot to write about relationship between parents and children in a Chinese family. The profound influence of tradition upon how older generations rendered their offspring, the role of a good son and daughter, the importance of education, morality, obedience, the obligation to honour the entire clan, etc, are often themes in hundreds of writing one can find in the market. Interestingly, does everyone feel the same way, meaning knowing one’s roots and identity is significant in life? All I realize is ‘deep’ reading really brings certain self-reflection to me and certainly it makes temporarily forget what is troubling me in reality.
Speaking of Police, what other music do you like? Do you always listen to every song’s lyric? What makes you think a song is a masterwork? What triggers you to like a particular song? In what kind of mood do you feel like listening to a specific song? Now, I feel like having a listen to Amy Whitehouse’s ‘Valerie’…

Brain vs. Heart

Brain vs. Heart

Sense or sensibility
It’s hard to distinguish
When chaos hits
Brain combats with firing heat
Yet
How’s heart doing
Can you feel its voice in between
Day or night
Highs or lows
Opposition must form
So one can perceive
Egoism or altruism
Blessing or predicament
Nonetheless
All things shall return
To dust of dust
In the END

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Healing Soul

Healing Soul

Physical body can be wounded
Can soul be tainted
Without light
How do we acknowledge darkness
Pomegranate trees legendary knights
And multi-coloured kites
A touching story strums
Deepest pain from every pore
Evil is part of nature
Redemption have we gotten
Healing soul
Who can truly make do
Silence falls
A protest or being withdrawn
Promise tossed
Trust lost
I still believe hope
No matter how relentless
The world seems to us all

Written by JerSki BjorkSen

Empathy, not a human-specific attribute

The newest issue (Jan-Feb, 2008) of ‘Scientific American Mind’ published an article regarding empathy and its recent experiments and discovery. What intrigues me is that results of studies demonstrated and suggested that humans may not be the only beings having empathy. Monkeys, apes, and rodents also show similar behaviours.
The mechanism triggering empathy lies in the mirror neurons in brains. The strong claim, proposed by psychologists, that top-down processes are the main functionality showing empathy. That means people have a tendency to put themselves in others’ ‘shoes’ so as to empathize the pain or difficulties other people are undergoing.

However, neurobiologists’ viewpoint of bottom-up processes provide another perspective.
After all, imagination cannot fully stimulate a person’s emotion. For instance, imaging how an aeroplane flies does not trigger any empathy. The interesting part is how human, or rather brains, distinguish and show various degrees of empathy according to the relationship with subjects who are suffering. The article talks about other mammalians such as rats, monkeys also have similar behaviours. Certainly we are not positively sure whether these animals are exhibiting the exact same mechanism as humans or there are other factors involved.

My opinion is: can empathy only be explained by mirror neurons that predominantly resides in frontal lobes? What about a person’s cognition and memories? Can we clearly draw a line between cerebral activities and abstract conceptions such as emotion and spirituality? What about nature vs. nurture issues? To me personally, there is a still a long way to go if we want to shed light on how empathy is produced and what factors or mechanisms ascribe to this emotional attribute.

New Year

This new year started a few days back and resolutions seemed far-fetched. Well, we all make plans in life but how many have we really carried out?

The new semester lies ahead. I hope I can be an ordinary, happy person. S. has become part of my deepest thought, a joyful moment I await impatiently every night before sleep.

If I say World Peace is my ultimate new year’s resolution, what would you say? TV broadcasts saddening events in Pakistan, Kenya, and other parts of the world. I happened to see the kidnapping case of Elizabeth Smart last night. Oh, SLC, a far-away city, full of my old memories during 2002 to 2004. The blue sky and Trax and bus 55 and 71 and the ice cream shop in Bountiful seem so vague yet profoundly rooted in my head…