Windstorm
Nov 9th, 2008 by Michael Max
Unlike Taiwan’s damp wind that blows like a smothering grandmother’s kiss; Beijing’s wall of dry sand filled bluster is like the smack of a binge economy gone on the rocks. Startling in its invisible blinding strength; sheets of dust, sand, now falling leaves, and a confetti of litter all take to the sky and shimmer like a 3rd world aurora borealis.
Wind in Chinese medicine is both a pathogen, and the result of illness. But, it shows up too in human relationships. Usually as anger and a blindsided confusion. A relationship dance where after a few seemingly routine steps there is suddenly a gaping void of misunderstanding. Such has been my dance with the publishing house in Beijing where I erroneously thought a job awaited.
Actually, there is a job here. There are two of them in fact. But, just because a need is waiting to be filled, and I have the qualifications to fill it, does not mean that job is mine. There is navigating “human resources,” which has very little to do with qualifications, and everything to do with neither agreeing or disagreeing to disagreeable terms. Us Americans like the terms of a deal clean and clear; upfront and agreeable. The Chinese? It is more like get on the boat and let’s see how your weight and momentum jibe with our flow and direction.
My Chinese is not great, but I do get by. The black box of culture though, that is a completely different story. It is oh so easy to seduce oneself into thinking you actually understand, when in fact the wind blown sand has distorted your vision.