spilled Ink

After they cut out my tongue I started writing script.

I found a compressed black Chinese ink stick with yellow dragons breathing fire. I added a little water to a grey stone surface and placed the ink in the center. 

Then, using my right hand, as Master Liu in Chengdu showed me, I turned the stick in a clockwise motion. Black ink ebbed into liquid as a drop of water rippled a pond.

After collecting ink I picked up my long heavy brown brush. Pure white hair. After soaking it in water for three minutes to relax it’s inner tension I spread out thin delicate paper.

I placed my right foot at an angle, left foot straight, my left palm flat on the table with fingers spread. I dipped the brush in the recessed part of the stone to absorb ink then slowly dragged it along an edge removing excess. 

I savored the weight and heft. My brush has it own personality and character. There are at least 5,000 characters in my written language. I have much to learn and a long way to travel with this unknowing truth.

in tone a tion

ideogram letter symbol
inside a series of interlocking blades

is a Cambodian

land mine museum displaying geiger counters
radiation blast suits, screwdrivers, shovels, hi-tech sensors

fertile green rice paddies, farms, fields
1,000 Angkor temples built with laterite stones

pachyderms, topographical survey maps
statistical graphic charts
rainbow amputee refugees

relocation centers rehabilitation
co-pay deductible insurance policies
cremation ceremonies

bereaved starving relatives

curious strangers
spilling

desire fear and regret

rappelling through nouns
verbs and ideas with bamboo shacks

submerged mangrove forests
hammocks, charcoal cooking fires
naked children, amputees

short term Australian nurses
laconic teachers
269 orphanages
12,000 orphans

a butterfly farm
a silk worm weaving center
empowering singing women
threading thin and thick yellow

salvia protein based fibers
on spindles and looms
near Son Le Tap lake 

jungle mumble

Namaste,

hominids know so much 
understand so little
pigments paint animals
traps, black time marking combs
seals, bison, ice age melts bones

hunters

bows, arrows, spears, traps
coal, ash, bark, blood, animal fat
50,000 years of experimentation
still creating in the dark

gatherers
animal skins, fishing hooks, bone sewing needles
fingers grasping
finer points
migration
settlements, social laws, rules, order

invent a religion

game theory
follow the leader

Metta.

Dear Lucy Chimp Child

I learnt to write before reading. Letters. Strings of pictures. Read nature.

Word pictures. Yeah. Grunts and ughs and yahoo wows and gestures and sings signs and more gestures. 

So it goes. Eat or be eaten. Law of the jungle. How did we evolve? Answer evidence.

Anyway, I walked from Ethiopia to I don't know where. New climate and landscape.

Someone, probably a Homo Stupendous had fire. I saw the light. It was in a shelter. A hole in the ground covered with branches and animal skins. Maybe a cave. 

Our tribe wanted to stole it. They made a plan. Brain power. Sneak up.

We asked, using our gesturing language. Limited. Share?

Go away!

They threw sticks and stones at us. 

Find your own fire. 

It's a struggle.

Bye.

hominid

Namaste,

The following conversation is, are was, were conducted by little people. Everywhere.

Hi, I'm a hominid. Really? You're taller than Lucy.

Yeah, I evolved. I learned how to stand up. Yeah, ya gotta stand up. Before you can walk you have to crawl. Yeah. Before you can run you have to walk.

She was a midget. Barely three feet. Didn't last long. Poor thing.

I'm hungry. Have some fruit. Delicious. Seen any wild animals around here? Yeah, grunt grunt. Big teeth. Hungry.

Find a tree. Climb fast. Keep your mouth shut.

It's a jungle out there. Eat or be eaten.

I eat to survive. Oh yeah. I survive to eat. 

That's life.

Metta.