one morning

small short history

heard a crow in a green autumn forest

document orange black sea light

among singing strangers

offering lemons, fresh bread, tea, 

as red roses converse with thorns

a 4,000 year old story

After three years exploring Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia, Orphan and Elf looked at a world map.

Our creative and healing work here is complete for now, said Elf.

I agree, said Orphan. I feel restless and need renewal. Where shall we go?

Make it new day by day. Make it new. Let's see, said Elf, tracing the map. Did you enjoy Turkey four years ago?

Yes, their hospitality is kind.

Ok, how about an ancient eastern town near the Black Sea with mountains? Pine, maple and evergreen forests? Fresh air, olives, tomatoes, cheese, hot bread and pastries? The Greeks and Romans lived there.

Sounds perfect for our never ending adventure. It's on the Silk Road. Did Marco Polo visit there?

Yes. He passed through. Like us. Maybe we will meet him or a wandering relative. We will share tea dancing silver spoons with new friends.

To travel is better than to arrive.

Ok. Let's go to Trabzon.

Marco's Future

Early one morning Orphan and Elf jumped on the local Vomit Comet bus from a rural village to Quanzhou.

They rolled through green Fujian foothills and lush farmland. Men worked oxen in rice paddies. Woman lugged baskets of greens and califlower to market. Children burned plastic trash along the road. Half-finished new rising middle class brick construction projects littered the landscape. The bus stopped. People crowded on. 

45 minutes later they reached the town. Maybe it was a city or a large village. The bus station was packed with peasants, sellers, noodle slurpers, and hustlers among grateful masses. 

They walked through a maze of alleys into the old heart. The heart is a lonely hunter. 

On a sidewalk a man hacked at a fawn selling fresh cuts. People scrambled to buy fresh meat. A woman pedaled past selling yellow carnations. A boy ran pulling a kite. A girl fed her sister. Women scrubbed clothes. An old man smoked in shadows.

At a venerable tea house made of bamboo in a shaded garden surrounded by jasmine they met Marco Polo.

I am on my way West along the Silk Road, he said. I don't know it yet but I will meet Kubliai Khan and stay with him for 3 incredible years. Maybe around 1271. We will play chess together. He will show me his plans to conquer the known world.

Orphan said, Such a grand adventure. We come here every weekend to explore and meet fascinating people and world travelers like you.

Elf said, Yes, and we know a Chinese fortune teller at a pagoda. He's excellent.

May I meet him, asked Marco. Sure, said Elf, Let's go.

They traveled through twisted, convoluted mazes and discovered an enormous pagoda. Red, yellow, golden roofs curved into blue sky. Five-clawed yellow dragons holding white pearls curled corners. Men, woman and children burned incense, mumbling prayers. Red cloth covered Buddha statue faces. Not ready to see. 

There he is, Orphan said, pointing at Confucius behind a table.

Marco introduced himself, What is my future.

Confucius asked Marco questions about his birth date, place, and family lineage. He opened a big brown book with faded yellow pages. He ran a bony finger down lines. He spoke in tongues, Among other adventures you will be imprisoned in Italy. You will tell your stories to another prisoner. You will be famous.

I only told half of what I saw, said Marco, smiling, scrawling notes. Elf made an image for historians.

mr. lucky foot

One of his secret names is Mr. Lucky Foot.

What does that mean you may ask, well let him tell you in simple, plain, clear and concise English, the language of barbarians. Just get to the verb.

It means wherever he travels because he's addicted to new adventures like meeting shopkeepers, merchants in Venice, rest-a-rant owners and nondescript sad, lonely, neurotic and well adjusted humans struggling to find their personal way inside life’s labyrinth, when he shows up, because 90% of life is showing up, their day, life, fate and glittering fortune changes. Karmic destiny. For the better. 

It happened in the Middle Kingdom or China per se, in Asia Minor, on the is-land of Amnesia in Southeast Asia, Vietnam, Cambodia, Nepal and Laos. A small journey inside life’s weaving.

Hand him down his walking stick.

amygdala

Namaste,

Survivors were willing victims of their fear, uncertainty, doubt, adventure and surprise.

Their amygdala, a small almond shaped brain structure validated to be involved in fear and emotional response fired up. 

Manipulated by their collective unconscious and the system of socialization control mechanisms and the subtle power of right wing conservative persuasion and media idiots, they either wanted control or approval facing this daily grinding, mind numbing, heart breaking choice.

They struggled, suffered, danced, experiencing gratitude and forgiveness in their heart.

They lived and died. 

It’s essential to die at least once while you’re alive and get it out of the way.

An engraved Zippo lighter in a dusty Saigon museum cabinet, buried under service ribbons read, “You only die twice. Once when you’re born and when you face Death.”

Metta.