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        <title><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></title>
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                        <item>
                    <title><![CDATA[Former Pentagon AI Chief Warns: Are License Plate Cameras Pushing America Toward a China-Style Surveillance State?]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/former-pentagon-ai-chief-warns-are-license-plate-cameras-pushing-america-toward-a-china-style-surveillance-state</link>
                    <guid isPermaLink="true">https://udumbara.net/former-pentagon-ai-chief-warns-are-license-plate-cameras-pushing-america-toward-a-china-style-surveillance-state</guid>

                    <description><![CDATA[A former Pentagon artificial intelligence policy director is warning that the rapid spread of automated license plate cameras across the United States risks creating a surveillance apparatus resembling China's. His comments arrive as a nationwide backlash against camera-maker Flock Safety intensifies, with lawsuits, vandalism, and even a gubernatorial order to tear the devices down.]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sun, 06 Sep 2026 09:43:35 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[When “Protecting Your Peace” Is Really Avoidance]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/when-protecting-your-peace-is-really-avoidance</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[“Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to cope with it.” ~Anonymous 
 

My sister called four times before I picked up. 
 

Not four times in one day—four times over three weeks. Each time, I watched her name light up my phone, felt something tighten in my chest, and set my phone face-down on the counter. 
 

I told myself I was protecting my peace. I’d read that phrase everywhere that year. It was on water bottles, on Instagram infographics, on the lock screens of women I admired who seemed to have figured out something I hadn’t. Protect your peace. It sounded so clean. So justified. 
 

What I didn’t tell myself was that I already knew what she was calling about. 
 

Our dad had gone in for tests two months earlier. Nothing had been said definitively yet, but there was a texture to the silence in our family group chat that told me something was coming. And I did not want to be the one on the phone when it arrived. 
 

So I didn’t answer. I told myself I was busy. I told myself I’d call her back when I had more emotional bandwidth. I told myself, genuinely believing it, that avoiding this call was a form of self-care. 
 

It is astonishing, looking back, how completely I convinced myself that hiding was the same thing as healing. 
 

I want to be honest about how far this went, because I think the small, unglamorous details are the only ones that actually mean anything. 
 

I stopped opening texts from my sister and let them sit as unread, because an unread text still technically hadn’t been received, in the strange math I was doing in my head. 
 

I told a close friend, when she asked how my dad was doing, “I’m trying not to think about it too much—I’m protecting my energy.” She nodded like that made complete sense, because it’s a sentence that’s supposed to make complete sense. It has the shape of wisdom. It just didn’t have any of the substance. 
 

I went to yoga more that month than I had in the entire previous year. I meditated most mornings. I said no to a work project that would have been a stretch for me, telling myself I needed to conserve my resources. On paper, I looked like someone taking beautiful care of herself. 
 

Underneath it, I was just a person standing very still with her eyes closed, hoping that if she didn’t move, the thing coming toward her might lose interest and go somewhere else. 
 

The call came on a Thursday. I know it was a Thursday because I remember thinking, absurdly, that Thursdays felt like a strange day for news like this to arrive. News like this seemed like it should come on a weekend, when you at least had two days of nothing to fall apart in. 
 

It wasn’t my sister who reached me first. It was my mother, and her voice had a flatness to it I’d never heard before, like she’d used up all the other tones already on someone else. 
 

She told me the results had come back. She told me the word. She told me my sister had been trying to reach me for weeks because she didn’t want me to hear it like this, alone, from a voicemail. 
 

I sat on my kitchen floor for a long time after that call ended. Not crying, actually. Just sitting, my back against the cabinet, doing an inventory of every unanswered call, replaying them one by one like some kind of confession. 
 

I had thought I was protecting myself from pain. What I had actually done was make my sister carry the weight of trying to reach me, again and again, while she was scared too, while she needed someone on the other end just as much as I was avoiding being that person. 
 

I called her back within the hour. She picked up before the first ring finished, which told me everything about how long she’d been waiting. 
 

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she said, and I could hear that she’d been crying, probably more than once, probably alone in places where no one had been checking on her either. 
 

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. I should have picked up.” 
 

There was a pause, and then she said something I’ve turned over in my mind more times than I can count since: “I kept thinking maybe you already knew somehow, and you just needed space. I didn’t want to push.” 
 

She’d taken my avoidance and turned it into a kindness she was extending to me. She’d assumed my silence meant I was coping in my own way, when really it meant I’d left her to hold something enormous by herself because I didn’t want to feel it yet. 
 

That’s the part that undid me. Not the diagnosis itself, not yet—that grief would come later, in its own long, unfolding way. What undid me in that moment was realizing that “protecting my peace” had not protected anyone’s peace at all. It had just relocated the weight onto someone who loved me enough not to make me feel guilty for dropping it. 
 

In the weeks that followed, I thought a lot about the difference between peace and avoidance, because up until that Thursday, I genuinely could not have told you where one ended and the other began. 
 

Peace, I’m starting to understand, isn’t the absence of hard things. It’s being present enough to face them without being destroyed by them. Avoidance just postpones the facing. It doesn’t remove the hard thing—it only removes you from the room while the hard thing waits, unattended, sometimes growing heavier in your absence. 
 

I’d spent a year building a version of “peace” that was really just very sophisticated hiding. Yoga mats and unread texts. Meditation apps and voicemail boxes I let fill up. I wasn’t protecting my nervous system. I was protecting myself from the discomfort of showing up for something that scared me and calling it wellness instead of what it actually was. 
 

My dad started treatment a few weeks later. I was there for the first appointment. I made myself be there, even though every part of me wanted to find a reason to be busy that day. 
 

I sat in a stiff waiting room chair next to my sister, who reached over at one point and just held my hand without saying anything, the way you do with someone you’ve already forgiven. I remember looking around that room—the fluorescent lighting, the muted television bolted to the wall, a stack of outdated magazines nobody was reading—and feeling, strangely, more peaceful than I had in the entire month I’d spent avoiding the phone. 
 

Not peaceful because everything was fine. It wasn’t. But peaceful in the way that comes from finally standing in the actual room instead of the one you built in your head to avoid it. 
 

I still believe in protecting your peace. I don’t think that phrase is wrong, exactly. I think I was using it wrong. 
 

Real peace, I’ve come to think, doesn’t ask you to disappear from the people who need you. It asks you to find a way to stay—steady enough, resourced enough, honest enough—even when staying is hard. Sometimes the most peaceful thing you can do is pick up the phone on the first call, not the fourth. 
 

I don’t always get this right. I still catch myself, sometimes, reaching for that phrase as a shield instead of a practice. But now, when I notice myself avoiding something and calling it self-care, I try to ask one small question: Am I protecting my peace, or am I just protecting myself from feeling something I don’t want to feel yet? 
 

They’re not always the same question. But they used to sound identical to me. 
 

They don’t anymore. 
 
 
 About Dakota J. DawsonDakota J. Dawson writes about emotional sovereignty, healing, and breaking free from self-sabotage—especially for people-pleasers and overthinkers. Her work explores emotional boundaries, Stoic detachment, and the quiet patterns that keep us stuck, offering gentle, practical strategies to build self-trust and finally choose yourself. Author of UNSHACKLED: How to Break Free from Overthinking, Emotional Chaos, and Self-Sabotage. Get her book here: https://linktr.ee/dakotajdawson   

			
					 
						See a typo or inaccuracy? Please contact us so we can fix it!]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sun, 06 Sep 2026 09:43:30 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[Did Beijing Just Reach a Deal Over Xi Jinping’s Future?]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/did-beijing-just-reach-a-deal-over-xi-jinpings-future</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sun, 06 Sep 2026 09:43:25 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[Global Scandal! Huawei Polishes Samsung Memory Labels, Calls It 100% Domestic Innovation]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/global-scandal-huawei-polishes-samsung-memory-labels-calls-it-100-domestic-innovation</link>
                    <guid isPermaLink="true">https://udumbara.net/global-scandal-huawei-polishes-samsung-memory-labels-calls-it-100-domestic-innovation</guid>

                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sun, 06 Sep 2026 09:43:21 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[China’s Real Estate Doom: 40-Year Mortgages Forced, Homes Demolished Instead Of Price Cuts]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/chinas-real-estate-doom-40-year-mortgages-forced-homes-demolished-instead-of-price-cuts</link>
                    <guid isPermaLink="true">https://udumbara.net/chinas-real-estate-doom-40-year-mortgages-forced-homes-demolished-instead-of-price-cuts</guid>

                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sun, 06 Sep 2026 09:43:16 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[Turning Tragedy Into A Celebration! China Rescue Team Holds Picnic At Disaster Site, Rescues Nobody]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/turning-tragedy-into-a-celebration-china-rescue-team-holds-picnic-at-disaster-site-rescues-nobody</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sun, 06 Sep 2026 09:43:09 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[Ohio State Pays $2.1 Million After Hiding Professor's Ties to China's Talent Recruitment Program]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/ohio-state-pays-21-million-after-hiding-professors-ties-to-chinas-talent-recruitment-program</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[Ohio State University has agreed to pay $2.1 million to settle federal claims that it failed to disclose a researcher's financial ties to Chinese state-run institutions while he worked on NASA and National Science Foundation grants. The case centers on former professor C.K. Shum, who admitted joining Beijing's Thousand Talents Program, a recruitment effort long flagged by U.S. officials as a vehicle for technology transfer to China. The settlement is the latest in a string of similar cases against American universities.]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 09:52:29 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[New Tick-Borne Virus Discovered in China Sickens Over 300 Patients]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/new-tick-borne-virus-discovered-in-china-sickens-over-300-patients</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[Chinese researchers have identified a previously unknown virus spread by ticks, after testing more than 3,000 patients with unexplained fever-like symptoms. The pathogen, now named the Asian longhorned tick nairovirus (ALTNV), triggers flu-like illness, fatigue, and in some cases liver inflammation. While most infections resolved on their own, patients co-infected with a second tick-borne virus faced a far higher risk of severe illness and death.]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 09:52:26 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[How the People We Love Live On in Us]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/how-the-people-we-love-live-on-in-us</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[“What we have once enjoyed deeply we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” ~Helen Keller 
Growing up, I thought my father was a pack rat. 
He never seemed to throw anything away. Bent nails. Odd screws. Washers without matching bolts. Short pieces of lumber that looked too small to be useful. If there was even the slightest chance something might come in handy someday, he found a place for it in the cellar. 
I couldn’t understand it. 
Why save things you could replace for a few cents at the hardware store? 
He would usually just shrug and say, “You never know.” 
My father wasn’t a man of many words. Born in 1933, he worked long hours as a plumber, driving a company truck, and was usually gone before I woke in the morning. Many evenings I was already in bed by the time he came home. 
He liked quiet while we ate dinner, but once the dishes were cleared, conversation began. He loved to read, watched John Wayne and Aldo Ray whenever they were on television, and every afternoon around four o’clock poured himself a glass of Clan MacGregor Scotch from the green plastic bottle. 
Those are the things I remember first. 
After he died, my brothers and I spent days cleaning out the cellar. 
The shelves were lined with coffee cans full of screws, old hinges, and enough bent nails to build another house if someone had the patience to straighten them. Short pieces of lumber leaned against the wall because they might be useful someday. Every shelf seemed to hold something that someone else would have thrown away years before. 
As we worked, I picked up an empty glass jar. 
I don’t remember deciding to keep it. 
I tore off a strip of blue painter’s tape, wrapped it around the middle of the jar, found a black Sharpie, and scribbled two words across the tape. 
Dad’s Jar. 
Then I started dropping things into it. 
A screw that was still good. 
A bent nail that could probably be straightened. 
An old hinge. 
Little bits and pieces that I knew my father would have saved. 
At the time, I thought I was making a keepsake. A small reminder of him that would sit quietly on a shelf. 
Life moved on. 
The jar stayed where I had left it. 
Every now and then I would drop something into it without giving it much thought. A washer. A hinge. A handful of screws left over from a project. It became part of the background, just another jar sitting on a shelf. 
Until one ordinary afternoon. 
I was working on a project when a perfectly good screw rolled across the floor. 
Without thinking, I bent down, picked it up, brushed off the dust, unscrewed the lid, and dropped it into Dad’s Jar. 
I stood there for a moment and laughed. 
I’d become the pack rat. Not all at once. Slowly. Without ever noticing it happening. 
For years I believed the jar was my way of remembering my father. Standing there that afternoon, I realized I had been wrong. 
The jar wasn’t preserving his things. It was preserving the way he had taught me to look at the world. 
My father never sat me down and explained why he saved bent nails or scraps of lumber. He never tried to convince me that useful things deserved another chance before they were thrown away. 
He simply lived that way. 
As children, we often think our parents teach us with words. More often, they teach us by the lives they live in front of us. 
Without realizing it, I had learned to pause before throwing something away. I had learned to see possibility where I once saw clutter. Somewhere between cleaning out his cellar and working in my own, I had inherited more than a jar of old hardware. 
I had inherited his way of seeing. 
Over the years, I’ve come to suspect that most families have their own version of Dad’s Jar. 
It may not be filled with bent nails and old screws. It may be a recipe card tucked into a cookbook, a worn hammer, a favorite chair, or something that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else. 
But if you’ve ever picked up something ordinary and found yourself smiling because of the person it reminds you of, then you already understand why Dad’s Jar still sits on the shelf in my cellar. 
Over the years, I’ve come to believe that grief isn’t only about learning to live without someone we love. It’s also about recognizing the quiet ways they continue to live within us. 
We honor them not only by remembering their names, but by carrying forward the kindness, generosity, humor, patience, and quiet wisdom they entrusted to us. Sometimes those gifts are found in a family recipe or an old hammer. Sometimes they’re tucked inside a glass jar filled with bent nails and old screws. 
Every time I add another screw to Dad’s Jar, I realize I’m not holding on to the past. I’m carrying a small part of my father into the future. 
Every now and then I drop another screw into it, and every now and then I hear my father’s voice. 
“You never know.” 
 
 About Peter PreblePeter Preble is a New England essayist, hospice chaplain, and minister whose work explores grief, memory, spirituality, and the quiet wisdom hidden in everyday life. He writes regularly at peterpreble.net, where he reflects on faith, loss, history, and the ordinary moments that quietly shape us.   

			
					 
						See a typo or inaccuracy? Please contact us so we can fix it!]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 09:52:22 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[Why Poorer Nepal Outperformed China After the Himalayan Disaster]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/why-poorer-nepal-outperformed-china-after-the-himalayan-disaster</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 09:52:18 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[China’s Luxury Collapse: Rolex Closes 2 Shanghai Stores, LV Exits, Galeries Lafayette Shuts Down]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/chinas-luxury-collapse-rolex-closes-2-shanghai-stores-lv-exits-galeries-lafayette-shuts-down</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 09:52:14 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[China’s Population Under 1 Billion? Visible Collapse: Births Halved, Big City Maternity Wards Empty]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/chinas-population-under-1-billion-visible-collapse-births-halved-big-city-maternity-wards-empty</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 09:52:10 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[Chinese Shipping Giant COSCO Denies Spying on U.S. Military for Beijing]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/chinese-shipping-giant-cosco-denies-spying-on-us-military-for-beijing</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[China's state-run shipping company COSCO has firmly rejected accusations that it planted secret spying equipment on its ships to collect military intelligence for the Chinese government. The denial follows a report claiming COSCO helped Beijing intercept military communications near the coastlines of the United States and other countries for decades. The dispute comes weeks before a planned summit between President Trump and Chinese leader Xi Jinping.]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 01:13:42 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                    <title><![CDATA[China's Xi Jinping to Bring Rare Business Delegation to Washington Summit]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/chinas-xi-jinping-to-bring-rare-business-delegation-to-washington-summit</link>
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                    <description><![CDATA[Chinese President Xi Jinping is preparing to bring a large group of Chinese business executives with him when he travels to Washington later this month, according to people familiar with the plans. The move would mark Beijing's first major corporate delegation to the United States since 2015 and comes as both governments look for ways to project goodwill ahead of a high-stakes summit with President Donald Trump.]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 01:13:38 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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                            <item>
                    <title><![CDATA[Netherlands Bans Chinese Cars: Cheap EV Trap Exposed, Dead Battery = Scrap, Repairs Take 200 Days]]></title>

                    <link>https://udumbara.net/netherlands-bans-chinese-cars-cheap-ev-trap-exposed-dead-battery-scrap-repairs-take-200-days</link>
                    <guid isPermaLink="true">https://udumbara.net/netherlands-bans-chinese-cars-cheap-ev-trap-exposed-dead-battery-scrap-repairs-take-200-days</guid>

                    <description><![CDATA[]]></description>

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                    <pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 01:13:30 +0800</pubDate>

                    <dc:creator><![CDATA[Udumbara]]></dc:creator>

                    
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