While studying at University of California at Irvine, I practiced yoga and meditation for 90 minutes in front of a lean tree in the courtyard of Studio Art every day. I dubbed this tree the “yoga tree.” In my routine practice, one of the moves that I did was a split while I hugged the tree. I would push one heel against the tree trunk and stretch both of my legs. I stretched my leg as high up the tree trunk as I could go, and tied a red rope around the highest point that I could reach with my heel. The rope is moved upward as time passes. And because I practiced every day, the bark of the tree became worn out. I videotaped my practice every week, and also photographed the tree in a sequence, from bottom to top every month. In a total of 18 months sequent images, the red rope was tied up higher and higher, while the “yoga tree” witnessed the four seasons as well as the flourish and withered of life.
I made revisions to the story in the movie *The Sacrifice*, and changed the setting into my hometown in the East. I became the little discilple living in the monastery, while my mentor asked me to water the tree every day. So I sat under the tree, conversing with it. We did not speak much, and most of the time we sat in acknowledged silence. In this story, there was no sprouting plot in the end. Meanwhile, I thought about what this story meant to me. One day, just before I was about to graduate from school, when I was doing a split while hugging the tree trunk, I discovered a rusted nail which was buried deep into the tree on a cut off surface of a split trunk. It was deeply buried inside that it apparently have been there for a long time. It had been almost two years, and the nail was at the height of my chest. I could not believe that I had never discovered it. Originally, I imagined myself to be the little discilple from the story. But then I realized that I was also the tree, because the long nail is like my illness, deeply buried inside me. Since the nail could not be removed, the only thing I could do is to grow old and live in peace with it. So in the end, the “yoga tree” was never a strong and healthy tree, but an emaciated and inconspicuous tree in the courtyard.
In those two years, I often thought, “What was the boy doing under the tree? What did he say to the tree? How could a withered tree come back to life? Why did he pursue something deemed impossible by most people? If we cannot change our destiny or the world, why do we bother trying?” On the other hand, I also thought, “Why do we get sick, and why do we suffer? Should I get my hopes up about recovering?”
在加州大學爾灣分校進修時，我每天對著Studio Art中庭一棵瘦瘦的樹練習瑜珈與靜坐，每次為時一個半小時。我稱這棵樹為「瑜珈樹」。在這個例行的鍛鍊過程中，有一個動作是抱住這棵樹練劈腿。我面對樹幹輪流以腳跟抵著抬拉雙腳，在腳跟所能觸及的最高處，綁上紅色的布繩作為記號。隨著時間的流逝，抬腳的高度逐漸上昇，也由於每天不斷的練習，樹幹的樹皮因此被磨平。我每週錄影記錄一次這些鍛鍊的過程；每月則以相機局部地拍這棵樹，一節一節的由下而上，從樹根連到天際。紀錄的十八串連續影像中，紅繩越綁越高，而「瑜珈樹」也經歷了春夏秋冬與生命的榮枯。
我後來將〈犧牲〉裡枯樹的故事，改成在東方的故鄉，我在一個寺院裡，我的老師叫我每日上山為樹澆水，然後我在樹下坐著，和樹對話。我們的言辭不多，絕大多數的時間，是相知的沉默。在這個故事裡，並沒有發芽的情節，因為我也在思索體會這個故事對我的寓意。我記得在畢業前的某一天，當我劈腿扒著樹幹的時候，在一個樹幹分枝截掉的切面上，發現了一個鏽蝕的大釘子，這根釘子深深的釘入樹幹中，顯然已很久了。快兩年了，就在我胸口的高度，我竟然沒有發現。我原以為我是故事中的那個小男孩，到今天我才明白，我其實也是那棵樹。那根長釘就像我的病，拔不出來，只能帶著釘子成長、活著。「瑜珈樹」從來不是一棵健壯的樹，它是庭院中一棵瘦弱不起眼的樹。
在那兩年的時間裡，我常常思索：「男孩坐在樹下做什麼？ 他和樹會說什麼？枯木怎麼可能再生呢？如果眾人都認為不可能的事，還要去做，是為什麼呢？如果命運或世界不可能改變，為什麼還要奮鬥？」另一方面，我也在想：「造成疾病與痛苦的原因何在？我要不要繼續抱著痊癒的想法？」
I made revisions to the story in the movie *The Sacrifice*, and changed the setting into my hometown in the East. I became the little discilple living in the monastery, while my mentor asked me to water the tree every day. So I sat under the tree, conversing with it. We did not speak much, and most of the time we sat in acknowledged silence. In this story, there was no sprouting plot in the end. Meanwhile, I thought about what this story meant to me. One day, just before I was about to graduate from school, when I was doing a split while hugging the tree trunk, I discovered a rusted nail which was buried deep into the tree on a cut off surface of a split trunk. It was deeply buried inside that it apparently have been there for a long time. It had been almost two years, and the nail was at the height of my chest. I could not believe that I had never discovered it. Originally, I imagined myself to be the little discilple from the story. But then I realized that I was also the tree, because the long nail is like my illness, deeply buried inside me. Since the nail could not be removed, the only thing I could do is to grow old and live in peace with it. So in the end, the “yoga tree” was never a strong and healthy tree, but an emaciated and inconspicuous tree in the courtyard.
In those two years, I often thought, “What was the boy doing under the tree? What did he say to the tree? How could a withered tree come back to life? Why did he pursue something deemed impossible by most people? If we cannot change our destiny or the world, why do we bother trying?” On the other hand, I also thought, “Why do we get sick, and why do we suffer? Should I get my hopes up about recovering?”
在加州大學爾灣分校進修時，我每天對著Studio Art中庭一棵瘦瘦的樹練習瑜珈與靜坐，每次為時一個半小時。我稱這棵樹為「瑜珈樹」。在這個例行的鍛鍊過程中，有一個動作是抱住這棵樹練劈腿。我面對樹幹輪流以腳跟抵著抬拉雙腳，在腳跟所能觸及的最高處，綁上紅色的布繩作為記號。隨著時間的流逝，抬腳的高度逐漸上昇，也由於每天不斷的練習，樹幹的樹皮因此被磨平。我每週錄影記錄一次這些鍛鍊的過程；每月則以相機局部地拍這棵樹，一節一節的由下而上，從樹根連到天際。紀錄的十八串連續影像中，紅繩越綁越高，而「瑜珈樹」也經歷了春夏秋冬與生命的榮枯。
我後來將〈犧牲〉裡枯樹的故事，改成在東方的故鄉，我在一個寺院裡，我的老師叫我每日上山為樹澆水，然後我在樹下坐著，和樹對話。我們的言辭不多，絕大多數的時間，是相知的沉默。在這個故事裡，並沒有發芽的情節，因為我也在思索體會這個故事對我的寓意。我記得在畢業前的某一天，當我劈腿扒著樹幹的時候，在一個樹幹分枝截掉的切面上，發現了一個鏽蝕的大釘子，這根釘子深深的釘入樹幹中，顯然已很久了。快兩年了，就在我胸口的高度，我竟然沒有發現。我原以為我是故事中的那個小男孩，到今天我才明白，我其實也是那棵樹。那根長釘就像我的病，拔不出來，只能帶著釘子成長、活著。「瑜珈樹」從來不是一棵健壯的樹，它是庭院中一棵瘦弱不起眼的樹。
在那兩年的時間裡，我常常思索：「男孩坐在樹下做什麼？ 他和樹會說什麼？枯木怎麼可能再生呢？如果眾人都認為不可能的事，還要去做，是為什麼呢？如果命運或世界不可能改變，為什麼還要奮鬥？」另一方面，我也在想：「造成疾病與痛苦的原因何在？我要不要繼續抱著痊癒的想法？」
