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Entries in nature (129)

Thursday
Feb232017

I am twinkling...

Mandalay to Lashio train. 16 hours of rock n' roll elevations. 4 a.m. to 9 p.m. Sublime.

Ride the rails click clack click clack click clack nature visions bamboo forests silver rivers feeling fresh air hanging out the door of a rock’n roll train rail alliteration.

Stars at 9 pm open the sky

A red shaped leaf fields of lilacs purple black and gold, butterflies, sense of stillness, renewal of free rolling spirit, yellow bamboo leaves at lower elevations, then green exploding higher lush gardens, fir, pine.

Fields being planted.

Women men children hoe plant water.

Say yes to everything.

The hard scrabble reality similar to Phonsavan in northern Laos, oxen, weathered fases, wood/thatch homes, small train station shops in the middle of nowhere.

Women logged in loading baskets of green vegetables, men wrestle iron timber on board, teens shuffle loads of wood into a train car door space racing long lonely whistle blasts. Here we go.

German Italian Japanese Australian senior citizens on train platforms snap Burmese people with no interaction projecting real true attitudes behavior at the T Bow exit.

Farewell my lovely.

A lone stranger enjoys the final four hours to Lashio.

Sublime beauty near and far butterflies, homes rolling hills golden rust colored labor in fields raving children urination copious food sources.

Staring at a writer sitting in market tea place morning broken lights curious faces, voices whispering is doing this being flowing “pen fountain” said the laughing boy standing on a cement slow all the men staring at this transitory process.

The expansive tradtional market is excellent. No foreigners in a chilly hilly labyrinth of morning. A source of fascination. Zen of sitting nourishment. Monks barefoot meditation an open hand holds everything. 

Burning coals. Tea.  Fractured light flowing energies.

Lashio artists

Character is action.

Tell me a story. The train stopped in TiVo where 24 nurses pulled on their acts wasted away onto shoulders descended to the platform took selfie declined images unloaded packs into tuk-tuk took off for Golden Dragon hotel. 

Lone traveler stayed on the train. It slowly rolled north. The conductor walked through the empty car. He stopped at an empty seat, collectived empty plastic water bottles, chopsticks, food wrappers, Styrofoam containers, dreams, nightmares and fantasies mixed with rising expectations, desires and needs.

He dropped everything out an open window. The train rolled through starlight.

 

The Commander’s Wife Buys Confectionery

 

In northern Shan State once upon a time there was along running insurgenc over land, freedom, natural resources, gold, rubies, star sapphires, opiates all golden triangle profit.

A shiny green army pickup truck pulled up at the New Sign Moon Bakery in Lashio.

A soldier and green jumped out and opened the cabinet door. The wife got out–longhair, white and silver dress, designer purse, serious face. Six soldiers exited the truck. They were on a mission to liberate cakes, cookies, sweets from glass shrine.

The commander got out. Short wearing a camouflage jacket like a forest with depressed green pants and black shiny shoes. Epaulets on his shoulder.

His sharp black eyes stared at a stranger scribbling at an outdoor table.

Zero expression. His eyes lay buried in his face of recessed emptiness. His commander war camo boonie hat sat a rakish angle crashed in front. Decorated with a golden military symbol of happiness compassion and love.

His life climbed steps into a new son. Her husband uttered quick syllables to number two.

Number two had war military bearing without a care in the world. He barked into a walkie-talkie.

A military policeman guarded the front of the truck. Soldiers stood around smoking as motorcycles loaded with fresh strawberries streamed goodbye.

She came out followed by a salesgirl trundling bags of roles and buns. A soldier put them in the truck. She spoke to her husband. He knew words were unnecessary. He followed her to the market. Soldiers marched behind.

Years later they return with bags of strawberries apples and bananas. They loaded everything into the truck.

Someone called the commander. He pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. He opened his mouth. Perfect white teeth. If you knew words. He smiled. A soldier open the door for his life. She got in. Commander got in and took off his office party hat. Smoothed his hair. The military police stopped traffic and they drove into a dream come true.

Real–not true

True–not real

Elemental. You are the sky. Everything else is just the weather.

Painting with light shadow sky sunset relationship based in market.  Wonder and wander free-spirited in a free world. Absorbing the energies. Innocent child-like play. See with soft eyes. Gratitude. Abracadabra.

Sitting inside sun street morning surrounded by women voices asking who is the stranger? Noodle mama. Voices of laughter. Kerry roses smell fragrance. Tea house people stare smile forget. Spiderweb sparkle diamond radiant from the center. Process Tibetan - Burma language.

I am a rainbow. I am twinkling.

old woman
deep lined face
gray hair pulled back
empty begging bowl

woman without arms
sits under umbrella
empty begging bowl

Loving their phones
Market people laugh
Selfies, games (easily amused)
Wicker basket on her back
Silver coins jingle jangle
Light passage humor
Red thread solid black background

How’s it feel this magic show

meditation caught in the quiet
absorbing diversity wandering
sitting visual symphonies
zones of cement shells
steel shutters, mercantile commerce
set it up…sell…tear it down…go home.

transition images
light shadow
adjust to eternal flow
energies

senses whisper confident poems easy.

Thursday
Dec032015

world is a village

Red clouds on a soft day. Japanese kamikaze snappers.

Rivers and sensation perception. Small people big voice. Orange monks. Women oranges.  Street love.

Serenity of sitting one afternoon in Boua Mon's village. Paper village.

The world is a village.

In this real zone dust dances with laughter. Women gossip, cook, swaddle infants. Joy and connections away from Disneyland myopia circus.

How it works in Laos. Unspoken. Men make the rules. Women take care of the home.

Below the surface. Subtitles.

Women worship in temples, men sit around drinking beer.

A village maintains the other world.

Morality, ethics, behavior.

You don't leave the village.

Everything I need is here.

Symbiotic symbolic relationships.

Meditation awareness.

Gentle undying nature.

Once upon a dream there was (is) present.

Ink said, hello now a few words in simple English hilarious. 

Monday
Nov022015

music muse

A word mercenary is free and roaming.
Roaming changes may apply.
Smiling is a virus.
Intuitive improvisation is a sign of genius.
Slowing down is the name. Exploring is the game.
Vientiane airport. A man pushes an empty wheelchair across airport tarmac.
Boarding pass woman does eyeliner.
The modern stainless steel global glass hair port design hasn't reached Vientiane time warp.
Laughter is the Beauty.
Transitions are radiant and clear.
One life, no plan, many adventures.
Intention. Mindfulness. Impermanence.
Ancient stories.
Music is the muse feeling alive on the ground in Luang Prabang.

Clean air, excellent light, brown scared rocks, elevations, green rolling hills, deep valleys and long visions.

Sunday
Nov012015

Ancestor Worship - TLC 55

After a year at TLC and a year in Indonesia he rented a room near Lenin Park for four months. Dream Sweeper Machine evidence verified life in Hanoi.

He planned to burn a hardback copy of A Century is Nothing near Hue where he was transformed. Sacrifice. Omar said, please gift to three Vietnamese-Australian girls you meet in Ho Chi Minh before you walk to Cambodia. They’ll carry it back to Sydney. Sharing is caring. He did.

His Hanoi neighbors were Sam and Dave. Sam’s the kid. Dave is Daddy. These are not Viet names. If they were they’d be named Binh and Thin or new Yin and old Yang. 

Dave had kids so he and his wife had someone to yell at. They needed someone, anyone to take care of them in old age sleeping on bamboo recliners absorbing 10,000 dancing kitchen smells with the sweet memory of insistent incense. 

It was an arranged marriage after a three-year courtship. Her parents demanded $5,000 cash up front or no deal. Pay to play. Dave and his wife pretended to need kids so offspring would feed them later. When you’re young and naive multiple pregnancies are paramount. Accelerate production comrades.

It’s easy to produce kids in the 13th most populated country on Earth. There are ninety million hard and fast rules of parenthood according to the popular Communist Party bestseller, Produce & Consume.

Get married early the pressure is on. Honor off her.

You do not want to be unmarried, single, sad, and forgotten. Loneliness and alienation increases the chance of heart attacks, strokes of genius and arterial vestiges of debilitating forms of social upheaval and instability in a well-mannered informer-driven paranoid society. 

Extreme pressure is on girls to get a husband.

  

Hi. My name is Li. I am almost 14. I speak excellent English. I finished nine years of school in my village. I learned what I really needed to know on the street of life. What I really needed to know to survive. What I really needed to know to make money. What I really needed to sustain my curiosity and sense of humor. I use really a lot.

Don’t let school interfere with your education.  

More tourists than travelers visit Sapa. It’s near The Middle Kingdom. I've never been there. It’s an old civilization. Someday I plan to go back to school. It’s good to have a plan. If you fail to plan you plan to fail better. I have a dream, to be.

I’m not talking about the hungry, angry, crazy, confused day-trippers from Hanoi or HCMC. They never talk to us. They are busy eating, drinking, fooling around with special friends at the nightclubs and buying cheap Chinese products. They don’t buy from us. They buy a lot of junk. They must be rich.

They make me laugh. You can always tell who they are: 1) they arrive on big white buses polluting pristine air 2) they wear bright red baseball hats so they don’t get lost ha, ha, ha 2) they travel in packs like scared animals 3) they stay in government hotels and eat at Vietnamese places 4) they ignore me.

No, I’m talking, and I speak excellent English among other languages about the foreigners. My friends and I working the street politely pestering visitors to buy our handicrafts, embroidery work and offering guided treks, don’t call the foreigners real travelers because they are only here for 2-3 days. It’s weird. Sapa is a beautiful place and they don’t stay long. In and out people.

Tourists have a holiday schedule. I think a vacation means free time. Time is free isn't it? A Greek guy named Arrest Throttle said time is the greatest wealth or maybe it was health. They’re related.

Anyway, they eat, sleep, wander around and maybe if I’m lucky take a trek to my village and then, POOF - like magic they disappear. 

Then the tourist machine spits out more day-trippers for us to sell to pester and offer village treks. Some want to see the real deal. They want to experience nature and the real Sapa. Life is all about meeting, engaging and establishing emotional connections with people.

It’s about what you feel not what you understand. I feel free.

Engage-study-activate.

Some stay overnight in my village, which is fantastic because by avoiding the greedy hotel middlemen after profit, my folks make some small money.

For instance, all the Vietnamese hotels - H’mong people don’t own hotels or guesthouses because we are free - charge tourists $25 for a day trek. So, let’s say they get ten. Do the math. $250. The hotel guy gives me $5-10.

I am smart. I meet trekkers the day before and agree to take them out at a discount before they pay the hotel. I show up early. 90% of life is showing up. I heard a foreigner say that. One said that life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you deal with it. I am a wise owl.

I take them out, down hills, up hills, across rivers, through valleys and forests into villages and we have lunch with my family. Foreigners love it. They discover how calm and beautiful nature is. They slow down. They sit and talk with my mom and dad. They take some snaps. Here we are.

Then we follow trails through forests, crossing rivers, trekking along rice paddies, climbing up and down hills and I bring them home. They are happy and tired. They are happy to pay me for their experience. This is why I deal directly with tourists and trekkers. I am a smart, aggressive little businesswoman. I eliminate the middleman, ha, ha. Does that make me a middle woman?

I live in the middle way.

I’m learning more English, Spanish, French, German, Chinese, Japanese, Urdu, Pashto, Sanskrit, Persian, Hindi, Arabic, Swedish meatballs and Italian from them since I was a kid tomorrow. I love pizza with cheese. I learned this from tourists with cameras, Say cheese.

It’s fucking hilarious.

They say cheese and freeze. They stare at a little black mechanical box. What’s up with that? Squeeze a memory. Some really get to know us. They are intelligent and thoughtful and seem to really care about us, how we live, work-play, evolve and grow as human beings. They want to understand at a cultural level why we are considered minority savages by the Vietnamese and get screwed. Literally.

Many are super friendly. They don’t leave a mess like trash and stuff.

I’ll tell you a secret. Many of us stay in Sapa. We share a room for $20 a month so we can get to the hotels early and meet tourists who want to go trekking. It’s more convenient than walking home that takes two hours and…you understand. 

 

My friends and I have a lot of fun in the room. It has beds and a toilet. We talk, sing songs and do our embroidery work. I’m a great little trek leader.

I am a private operator. It’s nice to do what you love and love what you do.

Nature is my teacher. Life is good in Sapa. Bye-bye and good luck.

 

The Language Company

Sunday
Sep132015

Han Shan

I follow my impulsive feet

wherever they might go

my body is a pine tree

surrounded by the snow

sometimes I simply stand

beside a flowing stream

sometimes I chase a drifting 

cloud past another peak

- Han Shan Te-Ch'ing (1546-1623)

Translated by Red Pine