How Another Year Passes by

I was about eight years old when the realization hit me. There， standing in my little school choir with my little brown antlers dangling sideways across my ears I thought to myself--

\"Why on Earth are we dreaming about a white Christmas?\"

Let me give you some perspective:

New Zealand， home of four million people and more sheep than you can shake a stick at， appears as a blemish in the middle of the Pacific Oceanin the desolate space of the southern hemisphere. This means that many things are， often for the amusement of the rest of the world， upside-down.

Our cars drive on the left hand side of the road. If someone says \"yeah\" they probably mean \"nah\" (and vice versa). And a white Christmas usually consists of soft wisps ofwhite sand blowing across the glistening blue waters of some coastal beach in scorching 30C plus weather.

As the sweat dripped down my brow， eight year old me shook my jingled head and wondered why people would have fires going and snowballs thrown when clearly the weather reports showed otherwise.

Of course， as you grow older， the boundaries ofwhat is and is not topsy-turvy become broken down. Things you consider new/strange/odd become familiar， like how a new leather jacket with stiffened elbows needs a few good wears before feeling like a second skin.

Christmas is typically the calendar signifier as to how change is measured. Phrases like \"the year flew by\" or \"the year snuck up on me\" are almost as common as \"Merry Christmas\". What started as new is now looked back as old， comfortable， and not so scary as before.

Refiecting back on another year of life in China， I'd like to raise a silent ganbei at a few small things I am thankful for that have become familiar to me in (what feels like) a very short time:

There's a board game called \"Operation\" whereby you become a clown doctor and have to perform surgery on your patient's \"funny bone\"， \"red nose\" and other humorous appendages. You cut and pull and twist until he's in pieces， unrecognizable and displayed across the table. This is how I feel when I think about the different animal body parts that have been consumed by me. In Sichuan Province I was introduced to all sorts of wacky and wonderful textures， far more than the standard meat-on-a-stick street stalls I had become accustomed to. Cow larynx， goose intestine， pig brain， all were pulled from the murky red boils of my te-la spicy brothed hotpot. Rich， smooth fat. Stringy tendons. Delicate slivers of I really don't know what. All were devoured. I am thankful that this year I have expanded my palate and gotten a taste for the fine nuances of regional Chinese cuisine.

My peripheral vision is now so attuned that an owl， a bird that can turn its head 360 degrees， would still be jealous. I am aware of every sidewalk surprise， every car door bursting open， every hollering driver screaming like a bat out of hell coming towards me asking me to move out. My turning and twisting skills when it comes to dodging the wild traffic give me the appearance of water， fluid and forever bending objects around me to avoid collision. My awareness of physicality has also allowed me to truly explore the benefits ofyoga and meditation as well. Previously I had never been inclined to feel what it truly means to be \"me\"， however this new understanding of my own presence is a unique comfort I now strive for. I hope in a few years I will be as aware of myself as the elder folks in my hutong are when they walk in this mystical meditative trance in the early hours of morning.

Of course the year cannot finish without at least one goal ahead for 2016. As well as the usual breaking down oflanguage/food/ mind barriers we build up in new places， I want to truly commit to myself and find my foundation in a place that seems forever shifting. Beijing is a swirling metropolis of new， but somewhere in the storm， 2016 will be the year I find my own inner calm.