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.

kwanyin (boddhisattva of compassion) in neon

i had written this on the night of arriving at Kieu Dam temple. we were to stay another night but our plans had to be changed. i hope to return there and spend a couple of days with the children there as well as the wonderful people who run the temple before i leave the country during this trip.

kwanyin in neon
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

20:53h 1 July, 2005. Chua Kieu Dam, Van Hanh Village. Vietnam

So I have wondering for a long time what it would be like to be at a monastery and here I am. Chua (temple) Kieu Dam is a temple/monastery about 70km to the east of Saigon on the way to Vung Tau. We arrived here about an hour ago. It is dark. The air is pungent and sweet in parts from the rain. The night is alive with life. Sounds of insects, birds and toads are a symphony beneath the unspoiled sky. The rain has lifted and there are bits of inky sky dotted with glittering stars upon the earth's ceiling. One of the benefits of being in a third world country, especially out of the city is the lack of light pollution.

Coming through the temple gates, the first thing I saw was a glimpse of the altar hall. It was lit inside and what I saw was very beautiful. The setting of the foliage grounds was a little like being on a forest path and serendipitously finding a thing of wonder behind a wall of trees. I have yet to go inside that building. That is to be saved for the early morning chant. I understand that begins at four AM. When I asked what time I ought to get up for that, I was told that I would hear the summoning bells and drums. Quyen tells me it is not something to be missed if you have never experienced it before. Surely I will not miss it.

The quarters I've been given are spartan and serene. It is a cottage about four meters wide and 10 meters long divided into two rooms. At the front room there is an altar for prayer and meditation, in the back room there is a sleeping platform (no mattress here, a wooden deck topped with a straw mat and a blanket) and cubicle where the toilet is and also a back door. There is no glazing here. In this humidity the doors are shuttered and the windows have scroll ironwork with outside storm shutters. The only thing between you and the mosquitoes is a gossamer veil dropped down and tucked under at the edges of the straw mat. The floor is tile and swept incredibly clean. This is one thing one notices in the details of daily life here. Even in the poorest of houses, the floors are always kept as clean as possible and shoes stay outside. If you don't walk barefoot inside then you have a strictly indoors pair of slippers. It is an important detail, especially on hot days there is nothing quite so pleasant as a cool tile floor to relax on - forget the chair or the couch.

I joked with Ivy and Quyen earlier that if you didn't know you were at a temple, the grounds, the buildings and layout of this place has the feel of a tropical resort. I will leave it to the pictures to tell that part of the story. It has settled down here and I think most are asleep. The only sounds outside are the crickets and the occasional toad. If I close my eyes, I could be in a tent in the middle of the tropical forest. 10.82 latitude north and 106.2 longitude. This is the place where sunlight rests.

the place where sunlight rests

the place where sunlight rests

it is the place where dew rests
in the too warm morning.

ten degrees latitude north
but far enough south for
painted clouds to convene.

it is the place of legends where
the celestial and earthbound

congregate against counsel.
heaven hungers the sensual
flesh desires tranquility.

where sunlight rests
is the dusk and dawn

of human experience.
just short of paradise
distanced enough away
from sweat and toil,
the body's tears,
the heart's aches.

warm summer rain

this afternoon we were blessed with a brief set of showers, cooling off the city streets of saigon. with each day passed running around the city, parts of it start to become familiar. on some of the streets, there are still strong residual feels of the french colonial history. it is strange to realize that this city located in southeast asia shares the layout and city planning of a place like paris. there are some good remnants from those days like long tree lined boulevards and gigantic roundabouts.

i have to say that the experience of saigon traffic still mesmerizes me. i've decided the best description i can think of is brownian motion. yes, it may sound a little strange but it is pretty accurate.

today, i had an interesting encounter with a little boy named Lam while out at breakfast. he is just a little kid trying to help support his family. the thing is he is only eight years old. one can't help but be touched on different levels after sitting there talking to him. it makes you reconsider things. once you understand something, it is impossible to turn away.

For Alexander Calder
by Erin Lambert

We are more ourselves than earthbound, mobile birds, sculpted shadows.
I had an orange bike once I had a cold and then a life around my someday
circus, glass bells. With wire, I found means to quit electricity, speak softly
to a row of cucumbers, but my distaste for office light remains as a series
of unfortunate hands cramped over keys. For I used my own to rescue
buildings, to demonstrate in red with human touch how one's presence is
a series of connections all at once — gone, like a spark — drawn through air.

bodhi leaves

bodhi leaves
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

Poem by Czeslaw Milosz

Love means to learn to look at yourself

The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills -
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn`t matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn't always understand.

life in motion II

life in motion II
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

life in motion

sitting in a car moving through traffic in vietnam, especially saigon can be a zen experience.

there are lanes yet no one pays attention. there are no manners of making turns from a particular side of the road to another.

crossing the street for a pedestrian from the viewpoint of an outsider seems as perilous as walking across a freeway in the states. however, there is an organized chaos to it all. if one watches the traffic from above, it will look like water flowing down a stream in particles made of people, mopeds, cars and the occasional bus. but unlike water it doesn't all flow in one direction. it flows closer to the way ants flow. they go in all directions and seem to bump into each other, sometimes catastrophically but rarely do.

as someone riding in a car, your first instinct is to cringe but after a couple of deep breaths you can relax and just watch the motion. strangely enough, it occurs to you that everyone on the road has the same expectation that everyone will figure out a path to get where they are going without careening into one another. at first it might seem like inattention then later you realize that it is some sort of faith, or something like that...in any case, there is a lesson there i think. it may not be obvious but there is definitely a lesson there.

view from hotel, hanoi

view from hotel
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

view from the hotel. from sixteen floors up, the moped traffic is akin to an ant farm with thousands of little creatures moving about like water flowing around stationary objects

flags in temple altar room

flags in temple altar room
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

at a temple in Hue. see more pictures from this set at http://flickr.com/photos/horselatitudes