The Art of Surrender

A letter from my best friend June arrived on February 16, 2013. It’s an old-fashioned, hand-written letter, like what we wrote each other about every day for years starting when we were in 6th grade. She said she was diagnosed with liver cancer. I flew back to Taiwan the end of the month to stay with her. She died in June, eleven days after Ingrid (another close friend of mine, a 91-year-old lady from the Bloomington neighborhood I live) passed away unexpectedly.

Barely two months later, HCI came into my life. I had struggled for so long about what I want to do for life that when the moment finally came when I no longer had doubts it’s like coming home.

I’ve come a long way to reach here. The journey was somewhat bumpy, but witnessing the end of June’s life taught me nothing in life can be taken for granted, and it, along with hours and hours chatting with Ingrid and learning about her life, pushed me to think what living means.

All the roads I’ve traveled – including all the struggles along the way – shaped who I am today.

At last, I crossed that threshold. Everything seems clear now.
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I never learned to swim, even after my friend Lesley (who is a swimming coach) spent quite some time teaching me. I’d just sink almost every time I tried. She suggested me to read the book “Total Immersion.” Total immersion.
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One of the ways to learn to relax your body is to tense up deliberately first and then release. It’s like yin and yang, struggles and feeling coming home, fighting to stay afloat and surrender.
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I had to walk out of the classroom right away after both morning and evening’s classes on Thursday.
After trying to take in what was happening in class, my heart was so full and there was still so much to digest that I really needed to take a walk or just otherwise being alone.
Or, I was just trying to stay in that moment.
Anyhow, I may need to do the same in the future.
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I almost never followed recipes, which I “read” to get ideas. I also like watching the cooking programs on the “Create” channel. That feels so right – to cook is to create. It was great hearing the distinction between a cook and a chef in one of the IDP classes this week. I’m no chef, but I love watching one and playing with food ingredients.
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After watching Bill Buxton’s Stanford video and re-looking at my IDP notes from last week, I now have a better understanding about why and (to some extent) how designers use sketching.
On a side note, I continue to be amazed by the energy designers exude when they talk.
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“Roy, where are we??!!” Denique and I were in Roy’s car; R & D were talking in a pretty animated way in the front seats. We had just finished a late dinner after my long interview with them.

“I have no idea!” Roy responded.

It turned out we were heading Lake Monroe after Roy’s shortcut to Denique’s place from Mr. Hibachi turned into 446.

The lightening was gorgeous. The windows were rolled down, and the wind felt so good.
“Hey, enjoy the glory of the ride!” Roy said.

Week 1

I’ve woken up every morning thinking about thermostats since Adhithya and I started working on project 1. Thermostats must have been in my dreams, even though I don’t remember a thing.

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I love Bill Buxton’s “Sketching User Experience.” I’ve never read an assigned reading that’s as captivating. He is such a great storyteller, and the lessons he draws from stories make great sense. “In the long run, safe is far more dangerous than risk.” I should frame this quote.
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The face-drawing game/experiment in Eric's class on Wednesday opened my eyes. I never realized when I allow myself to deviate from the kind of person I think I am or from the kind of behavior I project others to expect me to behave, it can be so liberating that the burst of energy, creativity, and fun blows my mind. “Who am I?” I shall frame this one, too.
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It’s fascinating how articulate the design director at Rolls-Royce is in this video talking about “Wraith.” His hand gestures and brief pauses are subtle but effective and elegant. It would be great being this communicative some day.
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One way to look at my educational background is that I wasn’t quite clear about what I wanted for life, or I wasn’t brave enough to depart from the set path and go instead with what I yearned for. Coming from a Confucian culture, I was hardly unique on this. Anyhow, it’s refreshing to be encouraged to be reflective. Cognitively, I’ve subscribed to this way of conducting life for years, but how much I’ve practiced it is debatable. The program has taken this approach to a different level. I feel well supported to learn to be a life warrior (in a Zen way). I’m so glad, even though it took me so long to get to this point. As they say, better late than never. And, even though it’s not a straight line, I’ve learned along the cursive way.
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Speaking of Confucian influence, I’d like to share my experience about the “language barrier” several people in our cohort have touched upon.

I was too intimidated to speak in English unless I absolutely had to when I first came to Bloomington years ago, because there was a little teacher in my head telling me if I spoke it had to be perfect English otherwise I risk embarrassing myself. Imagine throwing such a person into Ph.D. seminars after just two weeks in this whole new environment.

One experience changed me. Students were assigned to lead class discussion in a seminar I was taking in my 2nd year. The professor typically met with the leading student a few weeks before hand to make sure s/he is getting the readings right, and her goal in class was not saying a single word and letting the leading student run the entire show.

It’s my turn that day to lead the class discussion. I walked into the main library 25 minutes before class to print what I had drafted to open the class. As Murphy’s Law dictates, none of the printers I tried at the library worked.  I had to leave for the class without my draft.

What happened in class that day felt like magic. I didn’t know how it happened at the moment – I just talked, listened, and focused on being in the discussion. I forgot about the “language barrier.” It became a thing of the past.

It then dawned on me that I had clung to my drafts far too long. It’s like my comfort blanket. I don’t speak in English like a native speaker, and I probably never will. So what? The gist of communication is not in the grammar, accent, or sophisticated choice of words; it’s in what’s beneath these things – a desire for connection, the message to convey, sincerity, opening for different views, etc. In this light, Shawn’s sharing of his taxi experience touched me as much as everyone else’s did.
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Marty's idea letting international students use their native languages in the “design therapy” session is a brilliant one on so many levels. It affords a chance to show their true personalities, which may seem obscure to English speakers. It also sends an important message – everyone’s voice deserves to be respected, and everyone can contribute to this class. Additionally, it’s a good opportunity to learn to be comfortable talking to a group of people, which I need. But, for now, I’m going to stick to writing reflections, because I’m afraid of getting too sentimental. It’s kind of embarrassing.