milestones vs. flagstones

so i come close to another milestone, one of those milestones that happen whether we want it or not. this one is called a "birthday." so called birthdays are always strange creatures as far as events go, they are are often like relatives. they are often "love/hate" relationships. when you are young, they are love relationships. as you get older, they gain more and more of the "hate" relationships. sometimes, we do this as a matter of following the flow of the river. at other times, standing in the stream and wondering if you should really flow that way is a matter of personal choice. in either case, it can be difficult to really know which way you are tending toward. how does one really know which side of the stream one is loyal to?

this brings me to ask which side qualitatively is more the real me. of course then i have to ask what is the real me, it is odd to have gone this far in life and not to really know intuitively which is which. the budhhist in me says to see it for what its true nature is and let it go. it is probably the most peaceful solution but one that is not easily grasped by the emotional part in me. isn't that strange? isn't strange that the most simple and elegant solution is often the most difficult one to attain? isn't strange that attaining something like that is often so subtle that often effort put forth is simply an obfuscation of the end? perhaps in that there lies the lesson that it is not about the goal but the process. perhaps in that i have come to lean too much toward where i should be as supposed to how i'm supposed to be stepping toward that next slab of stone that is the moment in which i'm in. perhaps that is what i forget, i need to step onto the flagstone of the moment and try to clearly see what is the next stone i am aiming at.

single moms

so i'm sitting in front of this deli this afternoon enjoying my lunch and this woman (dressed nicely in a suit skirt and red wool sweater, black hose and heels) comes out of the place walking away from me and says back into the deli, "all single moms are poor!"

uh, i didn't know quite how to react to that...

it's a wrap

today i completed a project i started in april...yay!

i think i still have all my limbs and most of the same brain cells i started with...?

fuzzy air

all around me the air seems fuzzy. maybe it is because i've been up since early. there is a mellowness to my state now that is unusual. i'm rarely mellow. maybe it is a response to all the things that are there in life that bend us out of shape. maybe it is a sign that though i trip up all the time i'm still moving forward. people ask and i mostly don't have an answer. sometimes one really doesn't need to know why, just know you are on the path where you ought to be. try to walk it as best you can...

no warning

sometimes realizations come to you without warning. you are sitting there talking to a friend about something and in trying to explain your point you find an epiphany. if you are lucky enough upon this unveiling not to fall over or feel suddenly nauseus it could be an interesting passage. when you see yourself in the light of another's illumination, things appear that you know are undeniable but you were absolutely not ready for. in this particular case, it is a strange thing for someone else to confirm those strange rumblings inside of your heart. they point out the obvious that you aren't really quite ready to accept. so if you accept them, then what happens?

the shape that my heart molds itself to is not something to be given lightly. it is a strange and somewhat blunt awakening to realize that i have little control over. it is a reminder that i actually have little control over much that happens. i struggle to be open to situations and to see what the horizon offers. this does not in any means remove the ever natural and present sense of fear that accompanies the effort.

yes i am trying to be vague. i am trying to be vague as i might be when telling her how i feel. i am trying to be vague because it is something i've brought up once before and really don't want to go there again but this is just the way it is.

i am in strange territory and in most cases i would never find myself in this place. i would not allow such a thing. nevertheless, i am where i am. it is now pointless to try to understand it now. this is a time of flowing with the stream and learning how to surf on the lines of least resistance. i am teaching myself how not to fret about the dangers of the adventure i'm in. i'm learning how not to fear about the things i have no control over. i am learning that i feel the way i feel and this will lead to something that i don't understand but that is okay. i don't have to understand.

the shape of something inside is changing. i have no control over it and that is okay too. come autumn when leaves are shed in some distant land something here will be affected and i will be ready.

until then there is repose, not in the way john singer sargent would have depicted it but it will hold. i know in the visions of these experiences there is something of the light of the morning and late afternoon. the other periods of the day can be left out for the labeling of being fantastical.

mackerel skies

mackerel skies line the ceiling of my world today. little bands of white clouds hide evasive strains of the sky. in this same way she hides those parts that don't want to be seen. with fuzzy edges and transparencies she divulges clues that let me triangulate her position.

matching the moves of another emotional nomad is almost as challenging as figuring out the twists and redirection of your own heart. this is especially true when your heart wants to dart and turn like a minnow fleeing a prey.

is it a game of predator and prey? the way people move between camouflage and presence like a changing of moods?

equine behaviour

the measure of the distance between a sunflower's petals to the hive is written in the spin of a bee's dance.

he has seen the dance and now is quested with finding the location. it is a bit of a quest between realms, the distance between where he is and where she resides.

it is a bit of a journey into forests with foliage unfamiliar that would confuse him. he is timid about the swirls in his heart though not of the creatures in this forest. she lies out there in the midst of these arboreal giants. a faerie she might be he is not quite sure.

it is more important that she kicks the soil in the equine manner that he might expect.

somewhere in another incarnation, they must have run together. these crossing of paths don't happen in random...

horses

there are parts of me that want to cry
to fall apart in the way an empty shell is broken upon the pacific's surf
something keeps convincing me to stand there in front of that ocean
knowing that it takes less than two seconds to engulf me

yet i find myself standing here waiting for her
not even waiting for her but for some symbol of her presence
i have found someone as nomadic and evasive as i
so i try to contain my fascination of her in my own world
knowing it is bound to fail

one cannot hold a horse to corral, knowing that its counterpart is out there
so when you have two horses at great distances from each other
how do you determine the difference between corral and range?

crossing paths

in his dreams he sees the reflection of her eyes in the sunlight as snow. she looks up at the heavens, smiling. it is one of those quizzical looks where you can't really tell what is amusing her so. but she looks and she smiles, that is all that is important to him in his vision. there is a tang of something inside that is happening to him. he doesn't quite understand it. it is something between the elation of a happy moment and the trepidation of one's worst fears. the grays of reality that he has come to accept elude his vision. the strange comfort of knowing that nothing is really as it seems give way to a range of siena and then finally grays finalized by the rich harshness of black and white. in the way that weston can depict blacks and whites, his world has suddenly become something that is categorically undeniable in its richness and extremes. he is not ready for this. this thing, this thing that is changing his emotional anatomy. this thing that is changing the shape of the vessel that he carries the things he cares about. it is changing without his volition and his permission. how did he get here? it can't be because of a smile. it can't be from the sound of her voice. they must have known each other in another life. simple silk threads crossing over time and space in a manner that would drive einstein insane.

what does one do when paths cross this way?

in the afternoon

in the afternoon the sun moves and clouds dance to keep the shadows in the right places. i look at my feet and wonder if they ought to be in shade or sun. as a child, these games seemed so important. now, nearing the close of a third decaded i find the value in those childhood games and try to revive them. i am understanding how important they are. i am understanding how precious those moments are when you aren't feeling judged by anyone in your moments. so i am silly. in some ways, silliness is the only way i can understand the dynamics of my connection with her.

she is mature yet silly and retains those traits as she deals with the bullshit of this place we live in. she has not gotten eaten up by the acid of cynicism and lacks the polish of being burnished by years of misguided purpose. so i find myself in a place that i've not been in in a long time. i don't really quite know what to do with this.

so i look at my feet and ask them if they know where they are going.

nonsense

what does it mean to finally realize you miss the presence of another person? when you miss it in ways you are sure that wouldn't happen to you?

disconcerting. we as humans like to think we are in control. what a joke!

what is it to understand that one loves another against one's will?

strange

from where he finds the strength to love and not to be in love he does not know. he realizes the oddity of their relationship. a liaison like that of a dragon and an earthling, two worlds apart but in heart sharing the same space. their best moments together is the sliver of grey between night and dawn, day and dusk.

he takes this trip and there is an empty seat next to him. in his heart, tissues have healed but there is still a hollowness in the shape of her. the boundaries between the two of them are like a strange nourishment. manna that they feed on when they are in contact with each other but they have to be careful not to partake too much and too often lest they let through the thing that keeps them safe from each other. the thing that connects them is the very poison.

need rainstorm

i am here in person

my soul is in another place. somewhere where the rainstorms look different, the way the sun comes out of the clouds is different. you don't need huge rain clouds, you need the way people look at the clouds.

looking at the rain clouds differently, changes you. don't ask how, just look

france

i am going home in september. yay!

fascinating thought

to be an heir to your action...a completely interesting way to look at the world

"Beings are owners of their actions. . . heirs of their actions; they originate from their actions, are bound to their actions, have their actions as their refuge. It is action that distinguishes beings as inferior and superior." ~from the Culakammavibhanga Sutta

silicon valley traffic

now that i'm back in the land of PDA's and YOT's (yuppie offspring transport), i have to state that crossing the street is incredibly boring. traffic here is very predictable. people move to the right of the road before turning right and so on...how dull! ; )

back in the usa

so i landed at SFO on wednesday afternoon, my body is here but i think my mind is still at 10.82º N latitude, 106º longitude. the moments between clear waking states are still punctuated by images of streets crowded with mopeds, roadsides littered with drying coconut husks and myriads of smiling children. i've come home with over 6000 photos. fleeting moments and expressions captured, each containing its own little universe of characters, plots and moods. all those elements are like threads in a tapestry. we will see how the stories will re-tell themselves...

on a motorbike with a buddhist nun

on a motorbike with a buddhist nun
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

so i have to say that one of the highlights of this trip has been riding on the back of a motorbike with a buddhist nun!

we were in van hanh village and visiting five families of children we sponsor to help keep them in school. they are poor and live in remote areas of the village. some even have no land to build on and they live on grounds provided to them by a temple.

it was a touching afternoon. learning how difficult life is for these people yet seeing how they are able to carry on with no help and never for a moment lose their dignity is a powerful thing.

in short, the day's experience contained enough for a novel. some experiences change you in ways that might take lifetimes to understand. the subtleties are endless...

wide sea of greens

Mekong Delta region
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

we are into the Mekong delta now. left and right there seem to be endless rice paddies or other crops. there are women working the fields. banana groves demarcate the edges of fields. every bit of available land seems to be put to use to some sort of agriculture as long as there is not a building sitting there...

14D Cong Ly Street

little red pagoda I
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

at 14D Cong Ly Street, Saigon


So today the gang went out to lunch in downtown Saigon at this cool place called Quan An Ngon (literally translates to: Place Eat Well, or A Place to Eat Well). The building was very cool and obviously was old enough to date back to the colonial era. It was a villa laid out in a rectangular manner with a perimeter and then a center building leaving an arcade surrounding the central structure. The street it was on was definitely the same street as the street the old house that I grew up in was on but something seemed unfamiliar. As it turns out after we got out of the restaurant I looked and there was an adjacent alley. I thought to myself that this might be the old place so I follow it. The alley is currently being used as a moped parking lot. As I walked down about 20 meters it turned right at a right angle. As I turned the corner, I realized this was the alley leading to my grandfather's house. It was at the end of the cul-de-sac and the gates and adjacent buildings were unmistakable to me once I saw it. What I didn't recognize was beyond the gate.

I had been here only five years ago and there was no building in what used to be the driveway, courtyard and garden. The fish pond had been filled years ago and there was a cafe there last time. The thought that they destroyed the little altar at the end of the pond inside a structure modeled after the one pillar pagoda in Hanoi was distraughtful to me. There is a night club in the space where a garden used to be. The place where I climbed all over the footbridge leading out to the pagoda. I remember climbing the ficus tree next to it to reach the star fruit tree behind the pagoda and picking its fruit. The fruit from that tree was never sweet but it never stopped me from picking and eating.

We walked around the outside and even went inside. I described to Ivy what each section of the house was. Who used which room to the detail. We started walking upstairs but stopped past the second floor landing. There was a sign there. The last time I visited there were some in-laws of an uncle living on the top floor, it had been turned into an apartment. I knew in my stomach that was no longer the case. The sign read "mean dog, ring doorbell first." I didn't feel the desire to find out if they were there really. I don't know why but it was okay in any case. We started back down.

As we were just about to leave the premises I decided to check out the nightclub. We walked inside. There were only the proprietors there as it was just after lunch. I said hello and asked if we could look around. I explained that I had grown up here when I was a kid. The man was very nice and spoke to us and told us feel free to look around. Out of the right corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something through a sliding glass door and a wave of relief washed over me. There was a small courtyard and in the far right corner from where I was standing I saw the sight of a red, relatived newly painted one pillar pagoda. With all the construction around it, they had saved the pagoda. There was a newer altar next to it for some deity of protection or luck. I went out there. There were still remnants of the stone footbridge left. The ficus tree was enormous and had hanging roots all around it. A little spot of something from another life was still left and those who have taken over that space have respected its sanctity. I didn't think about all this in that moment but now it is clear to me. A strange sense of gratitude became alive somewhere inside of my heart.

When we left the place, I was reminded that nothing lasts, all is impermanent. What we might have that would seem more permanent is not necessarily tangible. The fragile intangibles though are the things that can indeed be passed on and kept alive in out thoughts and in our memories.

The rest of the afternoon, I had very nice pleasant moments. One arising and then passing but the chaing of them are linked together. It was a rainy afternoon and I walked up and down old Catinat Street with Kevin in the rain but in my mind when we stopped to look out over the grimy Saigon river with its waters muddied up by precipitation I still remembered that this is the place where sunlight rests.