One man

Greetings,

One morning after noodles I wander down an alley. I make an image of a man, maybe 60 - hard to be precise - in an alley sitting alone, sharpening an edge, redefining the steel. His labor, simple tools. No left foot. He curled his leg stump back to rest it on a boot. He went to work.

In the afternoon I'm sitting along a sidewalk near the market. He walks past with a shuffling gait. He's wearing a green fatigue shirt, hat, motorcycle helmet, carrying his red plastic bag with his simple tools.

I watched him walk. Knowing his truth, not knowing his story. Perhaps a land mine or a stray bullet. His left boot is an old combat boot issued to soldiers. A discarded war object. It is splitting down the front.

It is brutally hot. The sun is behind him. I wonder how he feels? Where is he going? Home for lunch and a rest? Looking for more dull edges?

I am surrounded by amputees here. They come to me on their crutches, their hands out. They wheel themselves down the street on little trolleys. A one-armed young man wears an old blue baseball hat. He sees local businessmen approaching. They are wearing white pressed shirts, leather shoes and shiny silver bet buckles. He takes off the old hat. Holds it out. It is empty. They ignore him. He puts it on his arm stump, runs his one good hand through his black hair, puts his cap on and moves down the street.

The legless, armless armies of physically wounded humans. They know you and you know them.

Metta.

Ghost Stories

Greetings,

In today's New York Times I found my comments included in a section called "Ghost Stories." I would like to thank the editors for selecting my piece.

On October 22, I posted an entry called BEDLAM AND HEALING. It was about the NYT and their "Home Fires," opinion section where Brian Turner, a Vietnam veteran posted his essay and poem. I'd read this and entered a comment and later read all of the postings, numbering 163 at that point.

Here is the entire piece and a link to the site. Read more...

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Hello Brian and Travelers,

I am a Vietnam veteran, author, English teacher and photographer living in Ha Noi after completing a teaching job in Indonesia. I felt it was time to “return” to a place where, as a green 19 year old, I was really on the ground.

I served with the 101st at Camp Eagle near Hue. I needed to get a sense of place and perspective. Nature has reclaimed all the land. Only the spirits and ghosts and memories remain.

I went to the Phu Bai airport. The yellow and green small simple cement building sits next to an “International” box. On the ground I found a discarded paper baggage handling tag. On one side in all caps it said, "EMPTY." I put it in my pocket.

‘Yes, ‘ I realized, ‘this completes the picture of my returning.’

As I wrote in my novel, “A Century Is Nothing” when I returned to San Francisco from Saigon heading to Denver they gave us a new green uniform.

It was a strange flight to Colorado. I grasped the significance of being a ghost. No one spoke to me. They averted their eyes. Maybe I smelled like death, evil incarnate, a green silent demon. Maybe all the passengers were afraid because I represented their worst nightmare. I was invisible, just like now.

Fortunately my “homecoming” was brief, then I continued to Germany where I finished my military time. Two years later while attending the University of Northern Colorado insensitive students, knowing my history, called me a “baby killer.” They had no idea. I didn’t absorb their sense of anger, frustration and illusionary ignorance.

Brian’s poem is a truthful insight how it feels to be invisible after a war. How leaves and rain and medicine birds are all. A cleansing and healing ceremony indeed. 

Bedlam and Healing

Greetings,

The NYT is featuring a blog called Home Fires. It concerns American veterans and their post-war life. I posted a small contribution concerning my adjustment after Vietnam referencing my novel.

Brian Turner,  an Iraq veteran and poet of a book entitled, "Here Bullet," wrote a piece for the Home Fires section and included a prose poem. You may find it worth your time. Since then over 163 posts were made as readers contributed their ideas and perspectives on war, returning veterans, politics and the current situation.

Jeffery M. Hopkins, a veteran and author contacted me and sent along his website to review his book, "Broken Under Interrogation." You can download a free e-book or order a hard copy through Amazon. I was grateful to hear from him.

Here is a short part of Brian's poem. It is about healing.

"Medicine birds break open in orange and red. Medicine birds have eucalyptus leaves for feathers and bandage the air when they fly. Medicine birds fly through the windows in the head, impervious to glass. They are impervious to WAR and hiss and steam and vapor and combat and the circling lost.

"Medicine birds fly through the windows to land in our beds when we’re dreaming our circling dream of Divisadero and Fresno with its lost and circling WAR. Medicine birds have eucalyptus wings and when they fly in our beds they transform themselves into leaves and rain and lovers.

"The lovers in our beds are eucalyptus birds flying medicine through the windows in our heads. The lovers in our medicine beds fly eucalyptus through the circling loss. The lovers in our beds bring medicine to our lips and call it eucalyptus, call it love, call it leaves and rain for our exhausted souls."

Metta.

Pictures of deceased Vietnamese in Ba Da temple, Ha Noi.

A man prays.

Healing

As people around the planet celebrate Barack Obama's monumental achievement they realize their potential. They know their dreams can and do become reality. They see the value of working hard, overcoming fear and doubt to create a new day, a new beginning.

The multiracial, multicultural and global communities gathered together as one to celebrate the beginning of a new era. It is about vision and action. It is about open honest communication. It is focused, determined and passionate. 

Living and making history allows healing energies to manifest. Seeds of hope and positive energy are planted.

They are nurtured with love and kindness. 

Dream big.

Metta.

Reflexology

A friend introduced me to the Jade Leaf Reflexology Center after school last Friday for a healing session. I released old toxins and negativity - physical, mental and emotional. The professional attention and completeness was a real joy.

I have included a link from authors Barbara and Kevin Kunz, Reflexologists,  who have taught and practiced Reflexology for 30 years in New Mexico. more>>

Happy healing and walk softly. It's a walking meditation.

Metta.