Birthday Wishes and New Year Resolution (2026)

It is your birthday again, old boy, and you are turning 49!

You are almost 50, reaching the half-hundred age. That sounds awfully old, but the silver-lining is that this is also the age when one knows their heavenly destiny.

What is my heavenly destiny? I don't really know, and that is part of my life philosophy—let life flow, and carry you to unknown terrains. But I am also a serious planner, and have been planning my life in the past two decades, to some good success. I am content with that. I don't think the main track of my life will change substantially in the following years since I am quite pleased with what I do. Reaching 50 and having achieved that, I cannot complain about life. 

But life is also full of challenges, twists, and uncertainties, especially at my age and at the everyday level. 2025 was a year that can be summarized as a year of everyday ordinariness. I was mostly Buffalo bound, except for two trips to NYC and one trip to Tacoma. I spent lots of time with Lulu, which was joyful and full of wonders, but toward the end of the year, the tediousness and exhaustion of childcare also kicked in, exacerbated by endless logistics. Looking back to 2025, I had plenty of ordinary joys but without extraordinary excitement, leading to the withering of my soul. That was difficult, if not depressing.

But I have largely recovered from that low point, after a couple of conversations with Igel and some further self-reflection. I am hopeful about 2026, a year of more travels, adventures, and self-discovery. As Igel has been making good progress on her book, this year is critical for her to get the book published and secure her tenure. As a result, the overall stress on the family will be reduced and we can have more fun activities here and afar. With that spirit, here are my birthday wishes and new year resolution:

1) Researchwise, I should definitely make progress on my second book project. I still have two leftover commitments to finish, one from the Sarasota workshop and one for the Cambridge History of Medicine volume. I should be able to finish both projects by the end of this summer. In addition, I have the special issue for Osiris or Asian Medicine to develop with Genie and the Cambridge History of Chinese medicine volume to develop with Bian san. But these are long-term projects. After this summer, I should be in full force working on my second book—fingers crossed for an HI fellowship, so I can get some writing done by Summer 2027!

2) I plan to do more travels this year, including a short trip to Sarasota this March and a two-week trip to Taipei this summer, which involves some serious planning of logistics. In addition, we plan to have a family trip to Boston during the Spring Break and possibly another trip to NYC this May. At the end of the year, it would be nice to have a family vacation somewhere warm and relaxing to escape the harsh winter here—Hawai'i is on our horizon!

3) There are always more logistics than we expected and I am often mentally resistant to do them. Things are getting better these days after the dark moment in November 2025 as I have made progress on fixing the window in the sunroom, fixing Little Blue, and getting the ball rolling for house repairs for the Old House. The main logistic matter this year is to complete repairs for the Old House and put it on the market. If I can get it done by the end of the summer, that would be great. There are some works on getting the Old House ready for selling, so I will do my best.

4) Of course, taking care of Lulu is always a priority. She just entered the preschool and is still adjusting these days. We need to get her potty read, hopefully soon. We also need to get her settled in her own room, without co-sleeping, no later than this summer—a challenging but doable task. I as her daddy need to be more firm and authoritative with her this year, setting up clear boundaries and disciplines. This is my soft spot and I am still working on it. Overall, Lulu is so lovely and marvelous that I cherish every moment with her, including those tough moments!

5) Keep doing exercise. This is a must thing for me and Igel as we are getting older. At least, I should jog twice (30 minutes/5km each time) and swim once (40-50 minutes) each week, and do some cycling in the summer. My body condition is not the best these days, and one best way to strengthen the immune system is to exercise. I should make it an absolute top priority!

6) Keep a robust weekday routine. That is, get up at 5am, wake up Lulu at 7-7:30am, send in Lulu by 8:30am, go to bed with Lulu at 9-10pm. I can do exercise either in the morning or in the afternoon, depending on the weather, twice a week. Weekend schedule can be more relaxed so I can catch up with some sleep.   

7) I want to carve out a time for myself each week, doing casual reading or some language learning. The most likely time will be Sat. morning, after exercise. I made it a routine in Fall 2024, but stopped doing that in 2025. I should resume this routine so I can have a devoted time for myself. 

8) Related to 7), Igel and I should also carve out a time for ourselves each week. Sat. evening would be a good time for us to do something fun together, such as watching a movie. It is in our plan!

9) Try to be more efficient on replying emails. I haven't improved on this matter in the past year—one of the 2025 wishes I didn't accomplish. It is hard to get rid of the proofreading habit, which is mainly psychological. I may consult friends, like Susan, to get some tips.

10) It is possible that I will have more service work later this year as I will be asked to be the next Director of Asian Studies. I will see what the perks are and make a decision correspondingly. Should I take this role, it won't be too demanding a job given the course reduction.

That is it. 2026 is a year full of hope and a turning point for the family. Most importantly, I should keep the spirit high and remain optimistic but at the same time being honest about my anxieties, doubts, and negative thoughts. Life is complicated, as aways. As I am approaching 50, I should know that well. Good luck, old boy!

Birthday Wishes & New Year Resolution

Today, I am turning 48, and entering the second quarter of the century.

I haven't posted anything since March, 2023, a high point of my life. Life became bumpy later that year due to Igel's health, and a long recovery in 2024. Now things have become stabilized. Challenges still ahead, but the toughest times are behind us, I think.

The experience has humbled me. The moon waxes only to wane, and water brims only to overflow. My early part of 2023 was simply too good; adversity was destined to happen afterwards. And it did.

But we overcame it with strength, resilience, and a new perspective of life. It was a timely reminder of what truly matters. This shift of perspective was reinforced by two friends' passing recently, both at a young age. Death reminds us of the deeper meaning of life.

I just finished reading Azra Raza's The First Cell, a powerful and touching account from an oncologist who shares her treatment of terminal cancer patients. I was deeply moved by her immense empathy, showing the dignity of her patients by narrating their suffering and pains. For a person who encounters death on the daily basis, despair, rather than false hope and contrived optimism, is the motor to make changes.

We are not at the level of despair. Far from it. But that is a perspective we need, so we can embrace life and live it to the fullest, appreciating its many small elements but without losing sight of what is happening in the larger, troubled world. 

At this point, my top priority is to take care of the family and support Igel's tenure effort, especially finishing her book. This means more share of childcare work, which I am happy to do. It is work, but such joyful work growing up together with Lulu. She is just delightful. Hopefully, by the end of this year, when Igel have finished her book manuscript, the tenure pressure will drop substantially, for her and for the whole family. Looking forward to that!

Now my birthday wishes & New Year's resolutions   

(1) Take good care of Lulu, Year 2 is often called "Terrible 2," but she has not become "terrible" yet. I hope that as she is growing, she won't get sick as often as last winter. She also needs to have her own room, drop her binky permanently, take bath/shower at a different place, start potty training, etc. The list goes on, but I am happy to proceed with these routine stuff in which I am sure Lulu will continue to give us surprises and wonderful enlightenment.    

(2) Support Igel's effort of finishing her magnum opus manuscript, while also keeping an eye on her health condition. Being a caregiver is no easy a task, but it is also a privilege. Being a historian of medicine helps, as it gives me knowledge and insights about the medical system we have today, particularly its limits. This personal experience may also in turn affect my intellectual pursuit (think about the history of pain, for example). We will see.

(3) On my own work, 2024 is a year I still spent a substantial amount of time wrapping up my first book, especially getting the Chinese translation published. It is time to move on since I don't want to sleep on the past work. 2025 should be the year I make some progress on my second book project. The project has been slowed down due to family matters, but I should make progress nonetheless—any progress, no matter how small it is, is good. "Incremental" and "persistent" are my mantras now. 

Here are some specific goals for my second book project this year:

a) Conference on Asian medicine this April. This is my first time organizing a conference, taking the driver's seat. It's been a stimulating and enjoyable experience thus far working with Genie, despite lots of work involved. Besides knowing the field better, especially the works from junior scholars, I will probably get an article published out of this conference, either in a special issue and an edited volume. My plan is to finish the manuscript of that article, likely on the history of smell in Chinese medicine, by the end of this year. That would be my third publication related to my second book project, and I think that should be enough before delving into the writing of the book.

b) More fieldwork research in Asia. The only time I can do this is this summer. I need to coordinate with Igel about childcare. I need to think hard on what are essential materials I need to acquire from Asia to advance my second project. I've already had access to Michigan database, which is a bless. Maybe I don't need to travel to Asia this summer as all, though I still need to think of ways to spend the money given to me by UB.

c) Fellowship application. NEH is the one I plan to apply this spring. It is a competitive fellowship, but I should apply anyway. I have already postponed the application for a year, so shouldn't postpone it again. I have a busy spring schedule, but should give this a top priority. It is also an opportunity to rethink the themes and organization of my book, after a long while.

Overall, my goal is to get my second book published in about 5 years, which is not a particularly ambitious plan. Besides taking care of the family, more administrative work will probably pile up in the following years—should I take the role of the Director of the Asian Studies Program? We will see.

(4) Logistics. It never ends. But at least I should set up the infrastructure in the new house, such as the offices of Igel's and my offices, as well as Lulu's own room. A house without bookshelves is not a house worth living in. For the old house, we will see what to do with it. But at least I should maintain it as is and fix several key things (the heater upstairs, the ceiling downstairs, etc.). More of a summer project.

(5) Self-care. This is almost entirely ignored in 2024. I am not young anymore, and having a healthy body is not just good for myself, but a responsible thing for the family. I need more and regular exercise, such as swimming, biking, & hiking, and guarantee enough sleep. I think the schedule of going to bed early, together with Lulu, and getting up early, at 5am, has been working well for me. I should keep that, so I can have at least 7 hours of sleep every day. I should also treat my cheilitis more seriously if it doesn't go away. Relatedly, I should change the primary doctor of both me and Igel.

(6) Any time for fun? I should. Continue reading novels on Saturday mornings in a comfy café and watching movies from time to time during weekends. More trips to Toronto would be fun. And perhaps a major trip to an exotic place in the coming holiday season at the end of the year? More social activities as well with close friends (Kristin, Susan, Erik, Margo, etc.) as I enjoy them very much, even if I am a quiet boy.

(7) Last but not the least, be more efficient and focused. "Efficient" means getting the 80% unimportant things done in 20% of my time; "focused" means getting the 20% important things done in 80% of my time. I am too obsessed, borderline OCD, on details, such as emails, which is unhealthy. I should find a way to handle emails more efficiently, starting from not proofreading my scripts, at least the 95% unimportant ones. It is a psychological thing that I need to overcome. I will be very happy if I can make progress on that.

That is all. I don't think I set up high goals for this year. Take it easy but move forward steadily and incrementally. The difficulties are temporary and the future is bright. I am, in the end, an incurable optimist.

A Good Year

Only shy of three months have passed in 2023. Why do I call it a good year already?

Because, simply, quite a few good news poured in during those wintry months, making me really happy. On Jan. 20, I got the IAS Fellowship at Princeton, allowing me to spend a semester there this fall to further pursue my second project on aromatics. Even better, Igel and Lulu will be able to join me too, taking our first family excursion outside Buffalo. I guess Princeton is not a bad place to start Lulu's early education!

On Mar. 3, Igel and I finally received our green cards. It has been a long and arduous journey, taking us more than 2 years for the application per se, and many more years of mental stress. With perseverance and the support of people near and afar, finally I can put this frustrating matter behind. This means that Igel and I can do international travels more easily, a prospect we are very excited about.

Finally, something unexpected happened recently. I went to Boston to attend the AAS last week. It was my first trip since Lulu was born, and I had a good, though a bit overwhelming experience there. After I came back, I tested Covid positive, unfortunately, and had to sustain my childcare duty—poor Igel—and isolate myself. While doing that, I opened my email on Monday (Mar. 20), and found one titled "Congratulations!" I immediately thought this is about the other fellowship I applied last year. But it is not. It is from the president of the AAHM, informing me that my book has been awarded 2023 William Welch Medal. This is totally unexpected and a too-good-to-be-true kind of surprise. My book has been published for almost two years, and I thought that I have run out of luck for awards. Plus, the Welch Medal is often given to scholars working on modern, Western history of medicine. My book is about medicine in medieval China, so I thought my chance is quite slim. But here you go, the award committee has decided to give it to me. I am still deeply in disbelief.

Maybe I shouldn't make a big deal out of it. It is after all an award in a specialized field, namely, the history of medicine. But it does means a lot to me. Above all, it affirms the value of my book and boost my confidence as a good scholar. As Igel told me astutely, not every good book can win an award, but a book that wins an award can never be a bad book. I thought that my book is OK, a typical first book with shortcomings. Due to the time constraint, I wasn't able to make it to the degree of perfection as I wanted especially for the Introduction. But the committee must have found something valuable in my book—none of the five members are a China specialist—maybe it is its accessibility, or its message to historians of medicine, or its focus on non-Western history. I have no idea.

I have to say that, quoting Daniel Kwan (see below), my imposter syndrome is all-time high now. Although this is an award in a specialized field, many prominent scholars, including some of the pioneering figures in the field, have won the award. That long list includes my two mentors Hisa and Katy, and several China specialists (Ruth, Hsiang-lin, and Nicole). I believe that I am the first scholar from mainland China who has won this award. Maybe the pool of contenders this year is weak, or they wanted to give it to a pre-modernist, or to a scholar of color. But I should stop thinking this way, and really start pondering what this truly means to me.

It means a few things. First, it recognizes my book as a valuable one in the history of medicine. Every book targets particular audience, and mine aims for historians of medicine, including many working on Western medicine, rather than Chinese historians. People will learn more things about medicine from my book than about China. I always have qualms about this: Did I distort Chinese history to fit the modern paradigms? Did I write my book for Western audience who knows little about China? But I think I did a nuanced enough analysis that has made the Chinese history complex enough without losing the big picture of delivering a central message to my audience, which is, the context, rather than the essence, matters for any medicinal substance, Chinese or Western. That message must have somewhat resonated with the award committee.

Second, I should not self-marginalize my field of medieval Chinese history. True, it is a small field with scant sources and less obvious contemporary relevance. But it is a valuable field, still a lot to do, and if I am able to find, there are many meaningful connections to the modern world. I should continue doing what I am good at and push the field forward.

Third, it is reassuring that the studies of non-Western societies have gained increasing attention over the past years. In this respect, the recognition of my book is also the recognition of this fast-developing direction of the field. I should embrace this opportunity and make an effort to contribute further in that direction.

Perhaps by serendipity, a couple of weeks ago EEAO won the Oscar Award. Both Igel and I were very pleased to see a film produced by an Asian team and with many Asian actors won the award. It was a revelatory moment for us, making us think what kind of life and opportunities Lulu will have when she grows up. In some sense, my feeling of winning the Welch Medal is similar to that of Danial Kwan, the co-director of the movie: an abrupt, unexpected success, and a sense of imposter syndrome. As I joked to Igel, this might be the highest point of my career. On the other hand, I should also remain sober and calm. After all, it is just an award in a specialized field. In the broader world, it doesn't matter much. I am glad that my book is recognized, which perhaps can enhance my reputation as a good historian of medicine, but by the end of the day, it is the inner force that has pushed me forward over the past decades. It does give me some reassurance that after the switch of my career two decades ago, I can not only make a living by doing history but also become good at it. How rewarding is that feeling!

I was invited to go to the AAHM Annual Meeting held this May in none other than Ann Arbor to attend the Award Ceremony. As fate dictates, I contemplated and started the change of my career from that lovely place. Now, 18 years after, I am back, with a sense of fulfillment and closure, but never complacency. If such things can be called an achievement, it is only because I am standing on the shoulders of giants. And last but not least, Igel's support and encouragement in the past six years have been pivotal. That story deserves a full separate post.

I tend to think Lulu has brought me lots of luck since she was born. By any standard, this has been a very good year for me. I don't expect to hear more good news in the rest of the year, as this is already way out of my expectation. Right now, what I need to remind myself constantly is to remain humble, stand on the ground, and always be true to myself and kind to others. It is a moment that gives me confidence and hope that by good effort I can do my work well and hopefully make the world a bit better.

Birthday Thoughts

Today, I am turning 46.

It is also my first birthday being a dad. That is incredible in retrospect.

Six years ago, on my 40th birthday, I reflected on my career and personal life. I set up two goals: to get tenure in six years and to find a partner in the following decade.

Gladly, I achieved the first goal last year. Now looking back, I found myself being conservative for the second one. Shortly after I wrote those words, I met Igel in Toronto (Mar. 2017), got engaged two years later (Mar. 2019), got married a year after (Aug. 2020), and now, amazingly, just became a dad (Dec. 2022). In less than six years, I have finished a home run! 

Still, given my extraordinarily long student life and the postponement of personal matters as a result, I am an old father. Hopefully, with the wisdom accumulated in the past decades, I can do the job fine.

As Lumiere enters our world, life will change dramatically. Watching her grow is amazing, and we also hope that in the process she will help us grow. At least for me, I want to remain true to myself, but also getting transformed by the expanded family, to be less self-absorbed, to better balance life and work, to find new meanings, and perhaps hope, in this troubled world.

On parenting, a colleague assured us: "There is no better place to be."

Usually at my age, mid-age crisis kicks in. There are certainly many challenges ahead: raising Lumiere, further developing my career, taking care of parents, dealing with endless logistics, among others. There is no set path for everyone. But as long as I remain open and honest, and willing to seek help when necessary, I think I should be OK.

All joy and no fun! That may be the paradox of parenting. It is a unique experience of co-growing with another person. It is also quite different from career goals: I can set up a concrete goal to try to accomplish it in certain years. But parenting is different. There is no set time limit; it is a life-long learning experience. To recognize that, I would say, is a powerful way of shifting my perspective on life.

With that in mind, I am not setting up any concrete goals here. I want Lumiere to be healthy and happy on her long life journey. It is my pleasure to take this journey with her, to explore the world together and to find the inner truths of myself.

New Year Resolutions (2023)

Another year has passed. Now we are entering 2023!

2022 was a transitional year for me. In Sept., I became an Associate Professor officially. Since tenure promotion was such a long process, the tail of it was not as exciting as the moment in 2021, when I got my first book published. It was an important confirmation nonetheless, which means that I can relax a bit and think about my future career goals and other dimensions of my life.

Life was as busy as usual. Without the tenure pressure, everything seems to slow down, and I have to admit that I didn't get as much done as what I listed in 2022 resolutions. It is also about the change of mode for my research. Instead of putting everything aside and just focusing on work, it is better, and more sustainable, to have a routine work schedule, properly balanced with other things in life. Still learning that...

There was also a major change in my life that dwarfed everything else in 2022: I became a dad. As writing of it now, I still couldn't believe it. It started in Hawaii in March, and Igel and I believed that we were blessed by a goddess residing in the Mount Ka'ala, in which we hiked. Afterwards, we paid numerous visits to the OB office, MFM, and blood clinics to assure the proper progression of Igel's pregnancy, which consumed much of our time. In retrospect, those visits have become nice memories of the bonding between me, Igel, and the baby. The delivery itself, which just happened less than two weeks ago (Dec. 20), was quicker and smoother than we expected, as we were supported a group of nice, genuine, and capable nurses and doctors. In the blink of an eye, the baby was out, which has changed my life permanently!

Two days after our baby was born, a historical blizzard hit Buffalo, taking the lives of close to 40 people. We gave our baby the name Lumiere, hoping that she can bring some light and warmth to this tough winter, and soften the firm realities of this world. 2022 was not a good year for the world. Russian's invasion of Ukraine in March, and the ensuing war have claimed numerous lives and cast an ominous shadow on the stability and peace of the world. Chinese government's draconian policy on Covid control for most of the year, followed by an astonishing quick abolishment of that policy in the last month of the year, has led to disastrous consequences, making this winter particularly harsh, if not cruel, for many. After more than three years of the pandemic, it doesn't seem to cease soon in China.

Locally, Buffalo also suffered two traumatic hits in 2022. The TOPS killing of 13 Blacks in May and the historical snowstorm that ravaged the city around Christmas. Authoritarianism, racism, climate change—2022 renders a sobering reminder that this world is far from being fine. As a historian, the relentless realities of this troubling world only confirmed that history is not always in progress.

In this bleak moment of Buffalo, and the world, we welcomed Lumiere, who gives us a flickering light of hope. We had a very good experience during and after the delivery—many colleagues and friends sent good wishes, gifts, and prepared food for us. It is precisely such human kindness, bonding, and solidarity that offer us hope during the longest nights of the winter.   

My resolutions for the new year will be a moving target as our little boss will decide many things for us. So here is a tentative one:

1) On work: Get some development for my second book project, including a) send the review article out soon; b) finish the camphor paper and the edited volume. Meanwhile, get the Chinese translation of my first book done. 

2) On fellowships: I hope I can get one this year (CCKF or IAS at Princeton). If not, give another try this fall.

3) My post-sabbatical leave is coming (2023-24). Make the full use of it, coordinated with childcare. I hope I can spend some time in China. We will see how it goes.

4) Spend time with Lumiere. This will consume lots of my time, happily. It is also a way to support Igel, so she can get more of her work done.

5) Have a new routine, coordinated with Lumiere's schedule. Don't stretch yourself too much. High efficiency during confined hours is the key.

About twenty years ago, when I was reading Ray Huang's autobiography, I saw a picture of him working in his study, piled with books, with his little child sleeping nearby. Now I am doing the same, at a relatively old age, just like Huang! To juggle between work and childcare, that is not an easy task, but a good challenge to take. Good luck!

APT Decision

February 17, an eventful day.

The Friday prior, I received an email from the Dean's Office, telling me that my tenure dossier was being sent to the APT Committee (Appointment, Promotion, and Tenure). This meant that my tenure case would be evaluated again at the college level, by a committee of 11 members across departments in CAS. This is something that I anticipated—my Chair told me that sometime in February the second round of assessment will take place. A mixture of nervousness and excitement. I was allowed to read the Chair's letter and the non-confidential part of the dossier, which are all reassuring. I didn't know when the meeting and voting will happen—sometime in the following two weeks, I thought.

Then lots of things happened in the past week, which distracted my attention. Thursday was a particular hectic day, as I was busily working on a matter of house mortgage with Igel. I was also going to give a Zoom talk next day, so didn't think of the tenure vote at all. 

Around 6:30pm, when we had a break after an intense day of phone calls and calculation of numbers, I suddenly saw a message on my phone, "Good news! Do you have time for a quick call?" I was pretty sure that I saw this message early in the day, but ignored it because I thought it came from an aggressive broker—they often start the message with "Good news!" Only now did I realize that it actually came from my Chair.

I immediately realized what this was about. The meeting must have taken place early today, a bit earlier than I thought. My Chair called me in a minute, and told me that my case received an unanimous yes. "It is an easy case and the meeting was rather short," he related. He said something else, like praises for my work, some clarification questions from the committee, etc. But I was too overwhelmed to hear them clearly. Igel was standing nearby, eyes full of tears. My response to the Chair was a bit too effusive and dull—many thanks, appreciation, feeling speechless, and the like. Honestly, I feel lucky to have an extremely supportive Chair. From the time he became the Chair in 2019, his support for me and Igel has been tremendous, not just on my tenure case, but also on the complicated issue of my green card application that has consumed me a good amount of time in the past year. Maybe the result would be the same should I have a different Chair, but a good Chair makes the journey much more pleasant.

It was a strange moment. Although this is a big deal—the APT decision is crucial since the rest is basically a bureaucratic routine, and the result is not a surprise, I couldn't feel the same level of euphoria compared to the official publication of my book last summer or the notification of the departmental vote on my case last October. The main reason, I guess, is that at least in my school, the APT decision usually follows the departmental vote, so I didn't anticipate a surprise. Plus, I don't know the majority of people on the APT committee, unlike the situation for the departmental vote, so it is an emotionally more detached process. The timing is interesting, as if this is a godly message: just as I was doing something most mundane and uninteresting—dealing with house mortgage, I received the positive affirmation of something I have pursued for almost two decades, something I call dream. This is rather ironic, isn't it?

Perhaps this coincident is sending a signal to me: it is about time to change the mode of living, from a laser-focused effort on securing my tenure and a living still like a graduate student to a more comprehensive and multifaceted life of a true adult shouldering more responsibilities beyond my own interest. Doing something I like is the most rewarding thing in my life, and I often find myself lucky to have the luxury of time and resources to pursue my goal and postpone other more mundane and routine things in life. It is about time to change that—I can delay those necessities, but cannot shun them forever. The temptation and momentum of remaining a perpetual spoiled child is high, but that is not realistic or even desirable. I must have a broader perspective of life and adjust my way of living accordingly.

It is a strange moment also in the sense of what is happening in the world. The Winter Olympics just ended in Beijing, yet what attracted more people's attention, at least in my circle of friends, is the chained woman from the Feng County. The absurdity of the tragedy and the anger it evoked among people is heart-wrenching. Compared to that, my little good news appears quite trivial, even meaningless. There seems to be a huge gap between my world and that world. Again, as an intellectual and a conscientious human being, what can I do to go beyond the self-fulfillment in my small, comfortable niche to contribute to the public good, either in this country or in China? Something to think about after the tenure.

New Year Resolutions (2022)

As usual, it is time to reflect on the year of 2021 and plan for the year of 2022.

Worldwide, the pandemic is still plaguing the globe, sickening and killing many. Although we had some moments of seeing the end of this seemingly never-ending odyssey—especially during the summer, the rise of omicron cases recently has made any assured optimism premature. The pandemic has been with us for two years, and it may not end anytime soon, unfortunately. I said at the end of my last year's resolutions that I remain cautiously optimistic, an attitude I have to continue holding this year.

The pandemic has affected many of my students, unsurprisingly. Some contracted the virus; others struggled with the negative consequences in their lives—taking care of their parents, finding new part-time jobs, etc. Some of my colleagues observed a clear sign of students' worsening performance under such duress. I didn't see too much of a decline, partly because I became in a sense an "easier" professor who loosens the rules to give students an easier time. At this moment of crisis, I often ask myself what is the ultimate goal of the higher education. Why should students care about their grades? What are they good for? I always thought that receiving a good education, and learning new knowledge are the basic needs of every citizen in the society. Yet having been working at a public university for more than five years and seeing many students from working-class background who try to make ends meet, I realized, gradually, that such an abstract and idealistic notion may not be compelling for everyone in our society, especially during an unprecedented pandemic. They need to find a job after graduation; they need to survive. I don't know how much this will change my future teaching, but at least it is something that worth contemplating. The higher education may be fundamentally changed after the pandemic.

Professionally, 2021 was a crucial year for me and I am glad that I have accomplished several major tasks listed in my last year's resolution. Above all, my first book was published on time in June, which was a huge relief. Given a decade of its making—and 15 years since I switched my career, it felt unreal to see the monograph finally out. Since its publication, I spent quite a lot of time giving book talks and interviews, consummated by a joint book launch on poisons that happened last month. In other words, I have been "consuming" my first book in the past six months, and I am tired of it. Now I am eager to return to the "production" stage, that is, reading and doing research for my second project.

The timely publication of my book certainly helped my tenure case. I submitted my tenure file in May and August, and did my best to enhance my dossier up to the beginning of October. Later that month, my department voted unanimous yes on my case, which made me very happy. There will be two more rounds of voting at the higher levels of the administration this year, and I should know the final result sometime in May. There is not much I can do at this point, just waiting for the final decision and hoping for the good news.

I also made some progress on my green card application. It has been a long journey, which I didn't anticipate at the beginning of 2021. With perseverance, hard work, and the support of my chair and many generous scholars around the world, the application was finally approved last month. Big relief indeed. After living in this country for over 20 years, finally I was able to get this practical issue settled.

There are other memorable moments in 2021: A trip to Acadia National Park in August with Igel, another one to Adirondack in the fall, and some local hikes. Life continues to be busy, and sometimes stressful, but we try to make the best of it by doing something fun and soul-soothing in this precarious world.

Here are my new year resolutions:

1) Make some good progress on my second project on aromatics. Finish an article manuscript on camphor by April. Finish another article on the history of aromatics by August.

2) Prepare for my sabbatical year in 2023. Apply for a few fellowships in the fall for my second project. Let's get a national fellowship, like Igel!

3) Finish several leftover projects on poisons, including one article on du/pharmakon to be submitted in the summer and one article of gelsemium to be submitted later this year. The article on the psychedelic drugs is still up in the air.

4) Make good progress on the Chinese translation of my first book, working with ZHY. Hopefully it can be published by the end of the year and make a splash among Chinese readers.

5) Make good progress on the rest of the green card application. Hopefully we can get our cards by the end of the year.

6) Develop a healthy routine of life. I have to admit that I didn't do well on this last year and I hope that I can do better this year. Don't stay up no matter what. Get up at 8AM and go to bed at midnight everyday. Give the best time to research everyday and handle logistics in the evening. Save Sunday each week for logistics and relaxation.

7) Keep reading. There are many distractions in life, but don't forget the joy of reading, either academic books or novels. Devote half an hour to reading before the bedtime, and read on Sundays. I hope I will read more novels this year!

8) Reduce the time of handling emails. Don't proofread your emails unless it is necessary. I was always lagging behind with my emails. With more administrative duties coming, I must be more efficient and practical in handling emails. Don't be unnecessarily obsessed.

9) Exercise more and keep it as a habit. Exercise at least three times each week (jogging, biking, swimming, indoor exercise). Try to do a local hike or walk during the weekend every couple of weeks.

10) Eat healthy and take good care of the body. Try to reduce 10 pounds so I can reach 150 lb. Eat routinely, more vegetables, and do my best not to eat dinner too late.

11) Handle some logistical works, including house organization and repairs. I was planning to get some of these done last summer, but never finished them. I should not postpone these long-overdue tasks anymore. 

12) Continue Duolingo on German and start thinking what other language I want to learn.

13) Develop a new hobby. How about picking up tennis in the summer? 

14) Have at least one trip with Igel to a national park or somewhere cool. We both need that badly!

15) More writing on this blog. I know this is part of my resolutions last year, which I didn't accomplish. Let's hope that I can do better this year!

Supposedly, 2022 should be a more relaxed year for me as my tenure pressure has been reduced. It is a transitional year for me. The key is to establish a healthy routine and work/life balance so I can have a sustainable career and life!

First book

 

My first book just came out two weeks ago! (June 27)

It is certainly a special moment in my life. I don't know how many more books I will be able to publish, but the first one is probably the most memorable.

It is a book of a decade's making, which is not unusual for an academic monograph. Ten years ago, in the summer of 2011, I was searching my dissertation topic in Cambridge—what a beautiful summer!—and gradually this project on poisons came into focus. I also started this blog during that summer (June 13, to be exact). I don't quite remember why I picked this topic—I think the poison/medicine paradox intrigued me. In that sense, the project started from an intriguing idea. Although the book has added more dimensions, that core has remained more or less the same.

But these are technical details after all. Holding my own book now, the memories go far beyond my Cambridge times. Back in Michigan days, in the fall of 2006, I was taking my first graduate seminar in humanities with Christian, who just started his AP position in History. One of the readings is a section from Benedict Anderson's classic Imagined Communities. I read the piece in a seminar room at the basement of my department (Biology), which is my favorite secret spot, and asked myself, "How is it possible for me to write a book like this?"

That was a different moment of my life. Although I was determined to switch my career, I still had lots of self-doubts. Even if I am passionate about humanities, can I do it? To write a book in English, at that moment, felt like climbing Mount Everest.

I still have doubts about my writing in English today. For a non-native speaker, those doubts probably will never go away, and that is not necessarily a bad thing. But the publication of my first book gives me reassurance. Language is not a formidable barrier to develop my career, though I can always improve it. What's more important is the idea of the book, and research behind it. In other words, substance matters more than style.

As an untenured scholar, I was lucky to have two generous reviewers who offered positive reports. In retrospect, I wish the comments could be harsher, to push me to further enhance the book. As a person who is always self-critical, I know well what are the pitfalls of the book. But as Katy told me, the first book is always functional—it builds upon the dissertation; it meets the tenure requirement; it confirms my scholarly capability. If nothing else, I got it done on time, which helps my tenure case. The next book, as Katy pointed out, could be more ambitious and bold.    

On the day of my book's publication, I made an announcement at several social media, upon Igel's push. I am not good at, or even interested in, self-promotion, as I don't enjoy being put in the limelight. But this is a special occasion—once in a decade, so I made a splash. Many congrats poured in, and to my pleasant surprise, I received warm words from some old friends, from Michigan days, Cambridge days, and beyond, whom I haven't been in contact for a while. It is touching to get connected to these old friends. Although I still don't enjoy fame—publishing an academic book is hardly a world-shaking event—I do cherish these beautiful friendships. Without their support, I won't be here.

I often joke with Igel that once I publish my book, I won't have any regrets even if I died. I am 44 years old, so this may sound too passive a thought. I guess that given the unique journey I took in the past 15 years, I am still somewhat amazed that I have reached thus far. I would like to say to myself: Congratulations. Your determination and perseverance have paid back.

Of course, I couldn't do this all by myself; many people helped along the way. It is a journey that started from a self-driven initiative, but has pulled in many kind and intelligent souls over the time. As K said before, writing a book is like paying a debt. He meant paying a debt to all those great writers who produced inspiring books. In my case, I am paying a debt to all those people who have supported me over the years. The book is not an affirmation of anything; it is just my way of saying thank you.

The post-publication days have been hectic due to the social media splash. I am here to reflect and remind myself of the 15-year journey I have taken. Life doesn't have that many 15 years, but I am very happy that I have put my past 15 years into good use. It is a somber reminder that if I do something I really like, I can survive, even flourish. It was no doubt a hard decision, but I am very glad that I made that decision.

Be proud, be humble, and more on, Yan!

 

   

 

New Year Resolutions (2021)

One year ago, when making my new year resolutions for 2020, I was embracing, rather optimistically, a new and promising decade. I would have never expected what happened soon after that and throughout the year, an unprecedented pandemic that profoundly changed the world and each of our lives. Quite opposite to what I hoped, the new decade started in such a dark, if not abysmal, fashion that simply getting back to normal life has become an extravagant wish.

As a historian, and a historian of medicine, I should've known it better. Similar episodes happened before—the Black Death, the 1918 Pandemic, to name two prominent precedents. I often imagine that I presciently predicted what was to happen when nobody believed my premonition, like a sage. Of course, I am not a sage, not even close; I am just a junior scholar studying my own things in medieval China. Historians, by definition, always look in retrospect. 

But this devastating pandemic, which is still unfolding, is after all sobering in an urgent way. The world will not be the same again, and each of us has been changed as well in the process. In the early part of the year, when the situation quickly escalated in this country, I was tormented between working on my own stuff and doing something for the greater good. I guess I was not alone in this struggle; many academics felt, and are still feeling, useless when facing such a global crisis—why aren't we real doctors? Eventually, I still focused on the former, feeling guilty of shunning social responsibilities. The question will continue lingering with me in the years to come. Hopefully, once my career has reached a more secure state, I can think more and do more on this. I don't claim to try to save the world; I just want to make myself a bit more useful, in however minute way, to the society.

On the personal level, this past year was not bad at all. Again, the fact that my life hasn't been affected much by the pandemic speaks how privileged I am. Not only do I still hold my job but I can continue the job without much interruption. Of course, I was stuck at home all the time; I couldn't go to libraries to borrow books; I had to offer online teaching. But compared to others, many others, who were at the edge of survival, I consider myself very lucky. On top of that, Igel got a new job at Buffalo, in the middle of the pandemic; we got married in the summer; and after that we moved to Buffalo more or less smoothly. Life was busy and stressful for academics, especially in this tumultuous year, but we have nothing to complain. It can be much worse, easily.

So what is my new year resolution of 2021? I have to say that given the lesson of the past year, I cannot wish too high. When I went though the list of the eight items on my 2020 list, I was happy to see that I managed to finish the major tasks, including completing my book manuscript, almost finishing the revision of my saffron paper, and getting married. Again, by not engaging in what is happening in the larger world, I was able to finish these things. The upcoming year will be a critical one for my tenure as I will submit my files in May. I thought I am in a good shape, but I cannot take things for granted and must do my best to continue strengthening my case. So here you go, my new year resolutions for 2021:

(1) Submit a strong tenure portfolio in May. This includes: a published book, the saffron article hopefully already accepted, the ISIS review, the ETHOC encyclopedia piece, and a submitted article manuscript on jealous wives. If I can get all these five components done, I would be very happy.

(2) The second half of the year is harder to plan in advance because it depends on a lot of ifs. If I get a fellowship, and travels possible, I will spend sometime in Asia, exploring my second project on aromatics. That would be fun. If that doesn't happen, I will just continue my routine life in Buffalo.

(3) And routine is the keyword. In this year, I, together with Igel, must establish a good and healthy routine of life. This means to get up early (8AM) and go to sleep early (12AM). Make the best of the daytime for work so we can relax in the evening. Try to save an hour each day to read non-academic things (before sleep) and save one day of the week (likely Sunday) for relaxation and shopping. This is really the key to controlling our life rather than being tossed around by millions of distractions. We will work on this together so we can develop the best schedule conducive to our work and life. We certainly have role models.  

(4) Exercise. This is one goal I didn't do well last year—still weighing more than 160lb. Let's see whether I can achieve that this year. Admittedly, the pandemic has made certain exercises difficult, such as swimming, but at least I should continue jogging, cycling, hiking, and taking walks with friends and colleagues. A healthy body is the foundation of everything. Relatedly, Igel and I should have a thorough examination of the body—for better performing in revolutions large and small!  

(5) Spend more time in dealing with logistics. These include: green card application, Canadian visa application, house repairs (summer project), etc. I know they are boring and not my cup of tea, but I have to handle them as an adult, and family man.

(6) Some travels, possible later in the year. This includes a conference in New Orleans, and possibly a holiday vacation with Igel in the winter. We have to see.

(7) Keep Duolingoing German. I have an impressive record of 467 days in a row. Let's make it to 832 days in a row!

(8) I would also like to write more stuff here. I know it has been dormant for quite a while, and in the past years I rarely posted anything except new year resolutions. Casual writing serves multiple functions—reflective, meditative, therapeutic. I want to resume the cultivation of this space, perhaps writing down something weekly or biweekly, to ponder both the inner self and the world at large. 

Finally, and this may sound superficial, if not hypocritical, I do wish the world will see a better year regarding the control of the pandemic, with less people suffering and dying from this terrible disease. It will take us many more years to reflect and perhaps change some of our ingrained habits and practices. And that is probably not a bad thing. 2021, I am cautiously optimistic!

COVID-19 Dairies (1)

March 31 (Tu)

Today I started to write dairies on COVID-19, suggested by Igel. As of now, the number of the infected souls worldwide has exceeded 800,000, among whom 175,000 are Americans, something unthinkable a month ago. Is it real, or are we living in a dystopian novel? In his Motorcycle Dairies, Che tells an extraordinary and life-transforming story of his cross-continent travel in his youth. My dairies will be of a very different kind. As most of the states in the US have issued a stay-at-home order, we have been sojourning at home all the time, working, cooking, and worrying. I don't aspire to be as famous as Che one day, but do hope that my dairies will be a window through which I can reflect on the unprecedented unfolding of the global crisis, both as a historian of medicine and as an ordinary human being. The experience is destined to leave an indelible mark on my life, for better or for worse. But mostly for better, for I wish we can survive the crisis and the world will be a better place. Stay tuned.     

April 1 (Wed)

A day of low energy. The pandemic is still evolving quickly—the number of cases in the US has passed 200,000, among whom more than 5,000 died. An alarming acceleration. We didn't pay much attention to the outside world as we were occupied by our own businesses—Igel kept investigating her H1B visa matter and I agonized over the revision of my book Intro. Between the public and the personal, we chose the latter. But not exactly. Igel gave a public talk this evening—via Zoom, obviously—reflecting the current pandemic especially its racial implications. We brainstormed for the talk, but regrettably I didn't listen to her talk. As a medical historian, I felt it a shame. I was too obsessed with my own little world of getting out the writing block. Did I make the right decision? Maybe not. Well, hopefully, I can get out of this low-energy quagmire soon. In this swirling moment, that is the least effort I can make.

April 2 (Thu)

Today my energy level came back a bit. I finished a subsection in Intro that has pained me for quite a few days, so I am glad that I eventually got over it. Hopefully I can keep the momentum and finish the revision of Intro soon. Now more on the pandemic. I encountered two pictures in NYT (see below). The curve of the US is quite deep at the moment: So far, more than six thousand people perished, and based on the current curve, the deaths will double every three days. UK and Canada have the similar rate, though they have less deaths thus far. These are numbers, but we know that human lives cannot be simply reduced to numbers. In the CNN news we watched tonight—we have developed a routine recently to watch PBS or CNN news on YouTube over the dinner—we watched a harrowing story of a New York doctor (Dr. Frank Gabrin) who died of COVID-19 while trying to save others. His husband was interviewed by Chris Cuomo, who himself contracted the virus lately, and the widower was in tears. It was painful to watch, and we know there are many stories like this around the country. It feels particularly agonizing as what happened in China two months ago is unfolding exactly the same way now. An excruciating déjà vu. On the positive note, if we look at the second picture, Washington is doing pretty well: the number of deaths doubles every 11 days. Compared to New York (every two days), that is quite remarkable. Although Andrew Cuomo is much more vocal and splashing big waves in the news, Jay Inslee might be the real hero who has quietly saved many lives. As Benjamin Franklin rightly said: Actions speak louder than words. 

 

2020, A New Decade!

Another year, and decade has passed!

Looking back, I can hardly believe that I have lived in this country for two decades. Very soon, it will surpass the time I lived in China (the first 23 years of my life).

I came to the US in 2000. At that point, I had dutifully followed the course charted by others to pursue a promising and profitable career, namely, biology. But things changed radically in the following decade, as many oversea students would experience. That was a decade of continuous struggling and finding purpose in life. Toward the end of that decade, I eventually worked out a way to redirect my career to be a historian. I am glad I did that!

The second decade involved both a fulfilling life of a history student (first half) and a transition to be a scholar (second half). I feel lucky that things have worked out the way more or less as I planned in the first decade. Life has been busy, and often hectic and stressful, but I am happy that it now has a clear purpose. Towards the end of this decade, I also found the "other half" of mine, who, as I feel ever stronger, has truly enriched my life!

So what will happen in my third decade here in the US? Or will I continue staying in this country? I think most likely I will, at least for a good part of the decade. Even for a person who likes planning on everything, it is hard to design a ten-year map ahead. There are just too many variables, and that is not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps I will get tenure at Buffalo and continue living here. Perhaps I will move to somewhere else. Perhaps Igel and I will have a baby. Perhaps I will become more outspoken in the public, and more politically involved. Perhaps I will switch my career again. No, the last one, I am quite certain, will not happen. Just joking!

As I just looked at my New Year Resolutions for 2019, it turns out that I have fulfilled the major one of submitting my book manuscript and getting the reviewers' comments. In that sense, 2019 is an important year, just like the year of 2015 when I got this Buffalo job. It gives me more assurance for my tenure case, and importantly, for my professional identity of being a historian. Putting things in perspective: One of the first books I read during the process of switching my career, in the fall of 2016 I believe, is Benedict Anderson's Imagined Communities, a classic in the field. When I read that book, I couldn't help pondering, as an outsider at the time, how I could possibly write a book in English like that. It was like climbing Mount Everest. 14 years have passed, and now I am here, claiming to be a historian with a bit of imposter syndrome still lingering, carrying a book manuscript that has received favorable reviews and will be likely published in a year or so. It doesn't feel real, but I am glad that it is happening. Kudos to the two generous reviewers—your unfailing support for a junior scholar like me is nothing but a noble act.

Which naturally leads to my New Year Resolutions for 2021:

(1) Manuscript Revision

I will spend the first six months of the year revising my book manuscript, making it as good as I can. Then it will enter the production line. Hopefully it will reach far at the end of the year, though that is mainly out of my control.

(2) Saffron article

I will submit the article manuscript to a journal this month and get the ball rolling. Hopefully I will receive the comments in the summer. I will use the fall semester, a busy one since I will teach three courses, to revise the article and resubmit it by the end of the year.

(3) Getting married (wanhun)

We did not do it last year due to a logistical issue. This year we will make it happen! In March, we will go to the City Hall in Toronto to get the certificate and have a mini-honeymoon afterwards. In July, we may have a wedding on the West Coast. Still planning on that...

(4) Travel

With my book manuscript in good progress, I now can afford traveling a bit more around the world. A trip to Boston in March; a trip to Taipei in early May and another one to Tel Aviv in late May. During the Christmas and New Year season, Igel and I will go to an exotic place to have a nice vacation, and belated honeymoon!

(5) Exercise

I need to have some weight evaporated. So keep exercising throughout the year: jogging, swimming, biking, and occasionally skating and hiking. 160 lb is my goal! Is that a tall order? :>

(6) German

I will keep learning German by Duolingo EVERYDAY. I have been doing this for more than 100 days consecutively. I will continue the exercise for the entire year, which will be very impressive. And Igel will join too!

(7) Casual reading

I miss reading non-academic stuff, especially novels. I didn't do that at all last year. I want to resume the habit and perhaps read a novel per month. It is edifying.

(8) Green Card

I plan to initiate the application in the summer. It is boring, but I have to deal with it.

Of course, there are things that I cannot predict or plan in advance, and I will leave those to the ebb and flow of fate. Altogether, my goal this year is to have a routine and disciplined life as much as I can, which is really the source of productivity, but also to leave some healthy room for sparkling spontaneity! Cet's la vie!

New Year Resolutions (2019)

It is been a while since I posted stuff here. Last time it was the start of 2017, on my 40th-year birthday. Almost two years have passed, and quite a lot has happened. The transition from being a carefree student to a not-so-carefree scholar took longer than I thought, but I am glad that I am moving to the next stage of life. 

This, above all, means being in a relationship and cultivating it wholeheartedly. We met in the spring of 2017, in Toronto, at a conference. The dating was unconventional as we live in different cities. But we made it work against odds and difficulties, and solidified the relationship later that year. In the past year, we managed to spend more time together, which certainly helped. Now we are ready to move to the next stage. In my last post, I said that if I can find somebody in the fifth decade of my life, I would be happy. Things happened more quickly.

For a loner like me, this involves lots of changes; it is not easy to open up myself completely and walk into another person's soul. It takes effort, and courage, and perseverance. Two souls clash, and gradually become one. Relationship, as I have learned in the process, is about how much you care about yourself vs. about the other. It may seem that I have lost lots of freedom when I am with somebody, but the feeling of being connected to another person, deeply and affectionately, is a stabilizing force that I, at this stage of life, very much yearn for. Maybe that is what love is all about. Simply put, it may be hard from time to time to be with her, but life without her is just unimaginable.

On my career development, it's been slowed down a bit due to the time I spent on relationship. That, I believe, is a necessary re-balancing of life. I am in the midst of the third year of my tenure track, so I still have time. But the pressure has been building up—I must finish a manuscript of my book by the end of this summer. Otherwise, I would be in trouble. It is about time to speed up. And I will. 

Hence my New Year Resolutions as follows:

Major ones:

(1) Finish my book manuscript by the end of the summer. Find a good publisher—being realistic is the key—and ideally get the reviewers' comments by the end of the year.

(2) Get married, either this summer or at the end of the year, depending on our schedules. We will just get the certificate and deal with the wedding later, when we find time.

Minor ones:

(3) Work on my saffron paper in the fall. Hopefully I can submit the manuscript to a journal by the end of the year.

(4) Keep learning German, which is fun!

(5) Some travels: Early March in Hawaii; late March in Denver; and hopefully a road trip from Baltimore to Tacoma in August! [This depends on (1)]

(6) Get my Green Card application rolling—it takes time.

(7) Keep exercising (swimming, biking, running, planking)—I need to lose at least 10 pounds.

Well, life will surely be busy this year, as typical for an academic. But there is lots of excitement and hope on the way, and I will embrace it with my whole heart!

Birthday Thoughts

Today I am turning 40.

That is sort of scary. I am entering the fifth decade, and have passed the mid-point, approximately, of my life.

I don't remember how I celebrated my 10th or 20th birthday, if at all. But I do remember my 30th. That was 2007, when I was in Ann Arbor, approaching graduation. I sent an email to my lab mates, calling for a bar night. One of them, my good friend Dave, replied: "Yan, were we precocious guys, your kid could have entered the college, and mine just graduated." 

Ten years have passed. Following the logic, my kid could have their first-born or even second-born already. It is strange to think about life in that way.

That is the track I could have taken, but I didn't. Instead, I switched career, did another PhD, and just started my first job ever. It is an unconventional track, but I am content with what I did and with what I have achieved thus far.

It is interesting to think that I spent the prime time of my life in school, and as I just started working, I only have 20 years to go, that is, less than the years I spent in school. On the other hand, academic life doesn't really have an ending; it is a life-long journey. In that regard, I still have 30-40 years, hopefully, ahead of me. That is plenty of time to do lots of things.

Of course there are practical considerations, like getting tenure—I will know the result five years from now when I am 45. But this is the moment to put things in perspective. If my pursuit of a humanistic career in the past decade can be called a success, the question is what I really want to do with it in the following decade. I switched the field because, simply put, I like history. Nothing more, nothing less. To do things one truly loves is a blessing, but I wonder whether there is something beyond personal satisfaction that I can strive for in the following years. Something not just out of passion but also out of responsibility. It sounds noble, and I haven't had a clear picture yet.

Another change I would like to see in the next decade is on the personal level. I am a loner, and I enjoy being alone. When I was a kid, I could spend hours watching people playing chess on the street for hours without getting bored. I still feel the most comfortable and free when I am by myself. But the flip side of this life style is loneliness. This feeling is particularly strong after I moved to Buffalo last fall, adjusting to the new environment, dealing with heavy workload, and having few friends.

Things are getting better. At this moment I feel much more comfortable with Buffalo, and a strong sense of getting settled. The recent purchase of a house helps; the presence of parents helps also. But in the long run, it would be nice to be with someone. I dare not to plan anything beyond that, but if I can find someone in this coming decade, I would be happy.

Confucius teaches that when one turns 40, they become free of perplexities. I do feel less perplexed now in terms of career path. But there are many other decisions in life that I need to make. I may never be free of doubts, but after all that may not be a bad thing.

The past decade has been a good one, arguably the best in my life so far. I very much enjoyed the process of switching career. Now I am pretty much settled on the track of history, and I will see where I can find new excitement and fulfillment. I may not get completely settled due to my spirit of exploration and intense curiosity. But again that may not be a bad thing.

The fifth decade, I am coming, with vigor, composure, and, hope!

Japan Impression, second round

After six years, I am back to Japan.

Six years ago, in the summer of 2010, I visited Japan the first time, spending most time in Kyoto learning Japanese, and a couple of weeks traveling around—Hiroshma, Kōyasan, Nikkō, Tokyo.

This time, I am back to Kyoto again, in fact to the same university (Doshisha University) where I studied Japanese before, and this time for a conference. It feels like a full circle coming complete.

I am always fond of Kyoto, one of my favorite cities in the world. Above all, it offers many old temples and palaces that always excite a historian like me. Since I've visited most of them in my last trip, I skipped them this time, and went to see a really old temple—actually the oldest in Japan—Horyu-ji (法隆寺) near Nara, which was founded in early seventh century (Sui Dynasty in China). The temple was sponsored by Prince Shotoku (聖德) to worship Yakushi Nyorai (藥師如來), a healing Buddha, to help the recovery of his sick father.

      

It was a cloudy day. Under the overcast sky, the pagoda (the left picture above) looked imposing. Old architecture like this, precisely because they are old, are plain, empty, and vast, as if history had stripped down all their ornaments and only left the most basic there. The awe they elicit lies not in magnificence, but in simplicity, bare-bones simplicity. 

At the time of its construction, the temple could be tremendous. How this type of building travelled from India to China, to Korea, and finally to Japan is beyond my knowledge. But one episode from Xuan Zang's Datang xiyu ji (大唐西域記) is interesting. The famous monk, during his travel in India in the early 7th century (not long after Horyu-ji was built), encountered a stupa that was fifteen meters high, commissioned by a foreign merchant. It was covered by the paste of saffron, a plant with colorful flowers and fragment smell. Already then, ornamentation figured more prominently in India than in Japan.

What was Japan like in the 7th century? I don't know much. This is the period of Asuka (飛鳥, 538-710), when Buddhism started to penetrate into Japan, and cultural exchange between China, Korea, and Japan flourished. This vibrant exchange continued in the following centuries, first in the Nara period (奈良, 710-794), then peaked in the Heian period (平安, 794-1185). One piece of material evidence is the many items preserved in Shōsō-in (正倉院) of Tōdai-ji (東大寺) in Nara, many of which are medicinal substances from China and further west. I tried to take a look at this important site when I was in Nara, only to find that I was too late to enter. So I only caught a sight from afar.




After I visited a few temples in the Nara area, visual fatigue arose—in the end they all look similar. Better to get some change: Kanazawa (金沢).

Kanazawa is two-hour train northeast of Kyoto. Often called "Little Kyoto," it has some interesting historical sites, though not as old. A fairly small city that literally you can walk around to cover all the places. It has a famous castle dating back to the 15th century when a so-called "Peasants' Kingdom" was established. Here we are at a different moment of Japanese history—the Sengoku period (戦国, 1467-1603). Not unlike the Warring States period in ancient China, the period witnessed the waning of the central power in Kyoto and the rise of feudal lords in local regions. The Peasants' Kingdom was one of them. It didn't last long. In late 16th century, it was defeated by Toyotomi Hideyoshi (豊臣秀吉). Several decades later, Japan was united again by Tokugawa Ieyasu (徳川家康), and enter the Edo period (江戸, 1603-1861).

Another famous site in Kanazawa is Chaya (茶屋), tea houses or geisha houses developed in the early 19th century. I suppose this is why the city is called "Little Kyoto," as that is what Kyoto is famous for. In Kyoto, there is a street at the center of the city called Hanamikoji (花見小路) where if you are lucky, you may see a "flower," an euphemism for geisha. Similar idea for the Chaya districts in Kanazawa, where a century ago customers (mainly male) sought rest and pleasure. These days the districts have become popular commercial sites to sell the quintessential Kanazawa product—things made of or covered by golden foil. The city was the major site of gold production in the 19th century. Hence the name 金沢, "marsh of gold." They even have a golden ice cream. Walking around the districts, I had sort of conflicted feeling. The architecture is certainly impressive. Yet underneath them hides a history that entwined money, greed, and distress of women.

Leaving the Edo history behind, I am entering a new domain, both temporarily and spatially, Hokkaido (北海道). Why Hokkaido? Well, the answer seems obvious: Hokkaido has a special appeal to foreigners because of its natural beauty. As the last piece of territory incorporated into Japan in the 19th century, it is like the American West, a wild, mysterious land that allures and invigorates. Not to mention its romantic portrayal in many movies, from Yamada Yoji's superb 遙かなる山の呼び声 (Chinese title: 遠山的呼喚) to Hou Hsiao-Hsien's Millennium Mambo (千禧曼波), and even to the popular movie 非誠勿擾.

So here I am, in Hakodate (函館), a southern city in Hokkaido. It feels fresh. No more heavy historical burdens; no more stifling heat in Honshu region; no more hordes of tourists. Here you see empty streets, quiet neighborhood, vast ocean, and still-active volcanos. There are some interesting historical sites, though, chiefly in the 19th and 20th centuries. Say, a Catholic church, an Orthodox church, and a Buddhist temple sit right next to each other, betraying the history of Western proselytization in the past century. But coming to Hokkaido is chiefly to enjoy its natural beauty and pleasant weather, not to forget its abundant seafood.

  

Something funny happened when I was in Hokkaido. Some places there reminded me of other places faraway that I visited before—a strange sense of déjà vu. When I was standing on the top of the Hokkaido Mount where I had a nice bird-view of the city, and the ocean beyond, I thought about Grenoble, a city in southern France I visited a few years ago. It also has a mount where you can climb up and have a magnificent view of the city, and the Alps beyond.

   

Here is another example. I spent a day exploring Toya Lake (洞爺湖) near Hakodate. Sitting near the lake and looking over, I discerned some mountains afar, which, perhaps because of the dense mist, were reduced to sheer geographical shapes. Are they not the mountains in Lauren Harris's paintings? The Canadian artist is famous for his depiction of natural sceneries as abstract, geographical, and hence highly spiritual objects. Harris went to Lake Superior in the early 20th century to produce many of his paintings. And I am now sitting along Lake Toya in Hokkaido, experiencing the same.

   

Is this a coincidence, or not? I have been traveling to quite a few places in the past years, mainly between 2012-13 (see my earlier posts). If my first visit of Japan six years ago provoked more of an excitement of initial encounter, this second visit, by contrast, offers something different because it is already built upon layers of my earlier travel experiences. As a result, some kind of connection emerges. For a historian, naturally enough, I cannot help pondering these questions: What is time? What is place?

Toronto, in transition

Here I am, Toronto.

This is the third city I live in North America, after Ann Arbor and Cambridge. Although the stay will be brief (10 months), it is long enough to get a real taste of the city, with all the commotion of re-settling. I am a guy who is slow to adjust to a new environment. The initial excitement is often followed by a period of melancholy and withdrawal. This is how I feel now. The transition has duel meanings: physically I am moving to a new place, and professionally I have left my student life behind and become a scholar. Hence the need for double-adjustment. For the former, it is a matter of finding my favorite spots in this new environment and re-establishing my daily routine: the café to read and think, the grocery to shop, the gym to swim, etc. I am sure it is just a matter of time, though I am a bit under time pressure. The latter is more challenging. Most important, I am on my own now to pursue a career that I find both interesting and meaningful. Although I often think of my former mentors as role models, now it is time to develop my own ideas and guide my own students. 

It is almost winter here in Toronto, nippy and crisp. Leaves are changing colors, so is the politics of the country (the national election just finished with the change of power from the conservative to the liberal). What is my impression of Toronto? It is a fairly large city with lots of interesting activities. My territory is pretty much restricted to the downtown area, close to the UT campus. Life is convenient. I live close to the Korean Town and the China Town, so I have no difficulties to get decent Asian foods. I see more 24-hour shops here. Toronto probably resembles Boston more than Cambridge; although the university is large, it is engulfed in city life. In general, Torontonians are more patient and laid-back than Bostonians, easy to talk to. Making friends is the first step, and perhaps the key step to get immersed in a new place. I am still navigating to find the right people—I don't need a lot; just a few would make my life different. My cultural adventure has just started: several cool museums to visit, a fantastic independent movie theater (TIFF), and some enjoyable biking trails along the lake. Have I ever mentioned that there is a lake nearly—Lake Ontarian. A déja vu of my Ann Arborian life. Indeed some people here say that Toronto is a mid-Western city, not really Canada's New York City, as often portrayed in popular imagination. In that sense, my life has circled back. 

Although the downtown area is populated, it is easy to go to somewhere that is quiet and pretty. Last weekend I visited the Toronto Island, which is just off the lakeshore. From there you can have an open view of the Lake Ontario. It was a cold and windy day, so the island felt vacant and vast. Maybe that is our impression of Canada, a huge country with sparse population. Cold weather too. What would be like standing on this island two hundred years ago? I have little knowledge of the history of Canada. Considering it is a politically more liberal country, I cannot help musing upon the historical roots of that political consciousness. Something I am yet to explore.

Time goes fast. If this whole year in Toronto is a transition to my next stage in Buffalo, I am at the transitional stage of this transitional year. Looking backward, or nostalgia, is futile; I must look forward. Transition is not always easy, but if my current uneasiness prepares for a better transition in Buffalo, it is all worth it. This prospective attitude is all I need now.

Toronto, looking forward to knowing you more.