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Friday
Jul152005

Letter to Christine in Paris

I weave on the loom of time. I weave the word "context" from Latin. Con (with or together), texere (to weave). A change in context transforms experience. Context is an essential and active process. The weaving directs our thoughts, emotions and actions.

“We are chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of our eyes,” a child whispers.

The rain ceased crashing for a moment here in Donegal and we communicated with you in Paris, your distant city of delight, your city of dreams. Our relationship is a flash of lightning along horizen’s thin thread of illumination. You ask how I am doing, how I am being.

My Japanese language studies allow a deeper understanding of images in the ‘floating world’ or UKIYO-E. Ando Hiroshige lived from 1797-1858. His birth name was Tokutaro and he was the son of a fire marshal and an orphan. He became an artist.

In 1832 he traveled the Eastern Sea Route or Tokaido road from Edo (Tokyo) to Kyoto. There were fifty-three resting places or ‘stations’ along the way and he designed and made woodblock prints of the places along the route. His creations influenced many famous European and American artists in the 19th century.

You will be pleased to know the process of translations are going well. ‘Meisho’ is a convention of poetic associations with seasons.

Basho, a well known haiku poet said, “Tabi wa jinsei desu,” which means “Travel is human life — life is a journey.”

Once, in another incarnation exploring the island of Hokkaido, my morning started with a walk to Towita park to enjoy fall foliage open spaces old fir trees and paths along water, small lakes and many stone statues.

Workers protected smaller trees against approaching winter by building a conical shaped pyramid of straw reinforced with bamboo strips and secured with ropes. Many sculptures in the park.

Beached blue and yelllow summer canoes are piled and tied up for winter. Ducks and mallards swim and rest on the water. Women gather leaves along wide paths. At a Shinto temple on a small island in the park an old brown structure imposes its shape and sentinel protection. Tori gate, cement bridge and balanced stone lions in the small courtyard. Crows cackle fall morning songs.

At a temple is a square stone basin full of water with four round wooden ladles resting on a crossbar. A single cup of water dipped and poured back into the basin creates a wonderful visual ripple effect. A single drop on the surface sends out a thousand colors as the golden and brown pebble bottom explodes in front of your eyes creating a new dimension. The drop itself moves out from the center, creating smooth colors evolving quickly then all is quiet with emptiness and stillness. A visitor drops many single elements because the moving image is wonderful and clear. It is a simple playful childlike nature. A manifestation of universal mind, essence.

A traveler inspects paper prayers and 1000 crane offerings on a board near stone steps. Two women arrive at the water basin, drink, spit water out and walk up steps, clap their hands three times, bow in prayer, clap three times, throw coins through the wooden slots into the temple, clap twice and slowly walk down stone steps stopping to throw remaining water on one of the stone lions before laughing and leaving across the stone bridge.

The art museum is open. Friendly volunteer women serve coffee, sweets and green tea. The curator comes out and speaks enough English to offer directions for the textile museum some distance away and leads to his current exhibition of oil paintings.

The majority of paintings are from 1935-1970. Early works show agricultural significance; hard manual labor in fields - women and children with shovels; selling vegetables, isolated in their hard eyed abandon, conditioned responses to a beautiful yet cruel landscape.

Some W.W.II material in pencil. Landscapes play an important role, their majestic background and backdrop sets the scene for the artist to capture the essence of military and rural people in their struggle to survive. It is basic and integral to their necessity. No images of gaiety and laughter.

The Yukara Ori folk craft museum - one of the main reasons for coming to the city is wonderful! The building resembles a medieval fortress high on a hill overlooking the city, valley and nestled close to the mountains full of fall colors.

The museum specializes in hand loom woolen fabrics of Hokkaido. Their brochure says, “When Hokkaido is mentioned, people think of long, severe winters and heavy snowfalls, but when the snow season ends, Hokkaido turns into a colorful world of greenery and flowers. An outstanding feature of YUKARA ORI is that they are based on such themes as ‘Ice Floes,’ ‘Lilacs,’ ‘Sweet Briar,’ ‘Lake Mashu’ and ‘Swan,’ themes drawn from the natural beauty and climate of Hokkaido. All of the work at YUKARA ORI is done by hand from the initial spinning and dyeing of the yarns into hundreds of colors, right up to the final weaving on the hand loom. It may take years to design and complete a new piece.”

Rooms display craftsmanship; blouses, scarfs, shirts, jackets, wall hangings, place mats, coasters, skirts, bags, purses, bookmarks, coin purses, and small bean bag toys. Mock-up rooms are decorated with the complete color coordination. Fine wood and the simplicity style is ethereal and utilitarian. A room contains the carding and weaving process in photos and actual displays.

A woman at a large hand loom gently works threads creating a growing design. People watch in fascination and vanish as she continues, alone. She carefully twists the threads into a balanced weight and line before gently pulling and pressing them into the pattern. She is following her meditation.

To Be Continued...

Thursday
Jul142005

Working in Kuwait 1/2

I worked in Kuwait from 1985-1988. Iraq and Iran were at war but you wouldn’t know it. War’s death echoed far away.

I ditched my interpreter - the minder - and vanished into a souk surrounded by high rise silver towers financed with desert oil revenue.

Small twisted medieval dirt alleys contained every sight, sound, smell and vibration of human existence. This was the vitality of Kuwait for me. Crafty merchants with long braided beards bartered cloth, sandals, soaps, running shoes, spices, pots, pans, shovels, hoses, stereos and watches.

There were suitcases, hair cream, candy, wrenches, apples, oranges, utensils, fresh goat meat, nuts, berries, trinkets, prayer beads, carpets, gold, bells, gongs, knives, hammers, henna, embroidery, baskets and tea, mixed with babbling tongues and laughter. Inside long shadows men gurgled hubbly bubbly pipes flipping scarred dominoes with gnarled fingers discussing multiple wives, children, fishing, pearls and the price of exile.

If you think it’s easy, let alone romantic, living here in this sweltering land of endless horizons then, “you got another think coming,” as my old man used to say.

Sure, the money's good, the weather’s fine for eight months of the year. You can consume all the material goods your little heart desires, maids and drivers are cheap but look at the down side.

Dust storms called shamals blast south from Turkey obliterating all vision. Fine silt covers everything, gets in your eyes and ears, brings on depression and anxiety. Temperatures from June to September never drop below 110-120 degrees. You forget what a cloud looks like, blank brown landscapes warp your brain.

Natives carried clandestine images of snow capped mountains or pastoral valleys in their pocket. People with cash complain constantly about not being able to get out of Kuwait.

People with money and a villa in Geneva, London or Monte Carlo left long ago for the summer driving around Europe in a rental for a change of scenery.

Social life here was like doing research with atomic particles. The uncertainty principle. You have to know what you want, what’s remotely possible and keep your eyes and ears open for any possible encounter which may lead to an invitation to an ‘open bar.’

‘Flash’ is a hard to swallow yet compatible home brewed liquid substance which passes for spirits. The subsequent headache always tells you not to repeat last night’s performance, but after a week of swallowing dust you are ready for another ’flash’ attack. Expatriates smuggle in yeast to brew in their bathrooms. It helps pass the time.

I smuggled in Yeats. “Cast a cold eye on life, on death, horseman pass by.” I paid female cleaning crews from Sri Lanka to keep their mouths shut or face deportation. It’s a tough row to hoe.

On a more mundane level, Kuwait is historically and geographically caught in a tough situation. To keep Iraq at bay Kuwait sells Iraq’s oil and provides access for imports. Saudi Arabia, on the other hand, perceives Kuwait as a natural extension of its own boundary, which leads to placation. Saudi Arabia is geographically bigger, has more oil, and considers itself the dominant Islamic force in the Gulf.

Area governments agree to disagree.

Oil tankers and container ships ply the gulf on a flat horizon working north and south. An occasional military vessel lies quietly offshore. Water skiers sail past wind surfers looking for moving air. Fishing boats complement orange buoys and ragged bamboo traps for hammour, a regular food source.

Of 2.1 million people in Kuwait, only 1.1 million are nationals. Foreigners include Palestinian, Jordanian, Syrians, Lebanese, Iranians, Europeans and thousands from third world countries. Relatively speaking they can make much more digging ditches, cleaning homes and doing menial labor here than in their own country. They support an extended family in Sri Lanka or Dhaka on their wages.

Local business is slow during the summer. Hotels are at 20-30% occupancy, full of Italian marble, black and white mosaic floor tiles. Tall Greek marble columns extend to a ceiling three flights above symmetrical massive chandeliers mixed with the sound of water - a sign of wealth and good fortune - from cascading falls. Luscious imported plants hang from balconies.

I was hired in 1985 to establish the most sophisticated fitness center in the Gulf at the Regency Palace Hotel. A $2.5 million dollar project. To get the job required three solid years of persistent, patient letter writing and submitting resumes to various general managers after making a contact in Eugene, Oregon. Who you know, not what you know.

I was teaching tennis at a five star Canadian resort named Manitou or Great Spirit, when the offer came through in August.

“Mr. Leonard, this is Jacque Hamburger, the General Manager of the Kuwait Hyatt Regency and your name is on the top of the list for our new Recreation Manager. Are you still interested in the position?”

“Yes. When do I start?”

“Next month. We will fax you the details and contract. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you for calling.”

The other professionals were afraid.

“You’re crazy to take the job,” one said. “There’s a war going on.”

“After Vietnam everything is easy. This is the opportunity I’ve been working on. I’m not feeding tennis balls to beginners forever. Time for new adventures."

I landed in Kuwait, left the airport and walked into a blast furnace.

Thursday
Jul142005

her eyes

Fatima’s eyes are a deep brown
they are all you see
in the luminosity between
a desert colored head scarf
and dark brown veil
covering her face

a shiny safety pin
holds her scarf in place
her chair is a cardboard box
under an umbrella
giving her shade

it is over 100 in Marrakesh

she sells hats
woven wool
intricate diamond designs
rainbow colored motifs

asks 100 dirhams
drops to 35
reducing her profit margin

we talk about knowing
practicing magic
baraka

Thursday
Jul142005

found in basra

when they found
their new home,
Jassem's 86-year-old mother
who can barely stand
even with crutches
was so happy, she stood outdoors

She said “today is the only day
I want to see in my life.”

Jassem, too
seemed to delight
in the irony
of her new house
but she has yet
to let
go of the fear
and anger
that brought her to this place

her fear
is that the Baathists
will return and remember

the piece of paper
she signed after her arrest
the one that said

she would be executed
if she ever did
anything against the party again

her anger is reserved
for the neighbor
who long ago informed
on her for a crime
she said she did not commit

“When I think of her,” Jassem said,
“I just wish to eat her and drink her blood.”

Thursday
Jul142005

Chinese Kids & Meditation

After visiting Qinchengshan mountain where Taoism began 2,000 years ago he introduced meditation concepts to his Chinese junior high school students.

“Mediation is sitting quietly to develop a calm, quiet mind,” he wrote on the board.

He spoke quietly. “You sit tall with your hands either in front of you or on your knees, lower your eyes and focus on a single point, your breath, ‘in, out, in, out.’

“If your mind becomes distracted by past or future thoughts you bring it back to your breath, ‘in, out, in out.’ This is a single point of awareness.

“You do it for yourself; not your friends, parents or teachers. Meditation allows you feel a harmony and balance. You will feel more peaceful and happier than other people “busy” rushing around. Your goal today is just to sit for 5 minutes and to sit and practise for 5 minutes every day before school. Eventually you want to sit for 20 minutes every day, whenever and wherever you like.”

He wrote the Chinese words on the board: "Jing" - quiet, stillness, calm - and "Ding" - concentration and focus - so they'd see the linguistic connection.

“When you begin to sit in meditation at first, your mind will be very uncooperative. The ego or your “emotional mind” will fight against it’s extinction by the higher forces of spiritual awareness.

“The ego loves the day-to-day circus of sensory entertainment and emotional turmoil, even though this game depletes your energy, degenerates your body and exhausts your spirit. We call the ego the ‘monkey mind.’”

They laughed.

“When your mind is calm and focused in the present it is neither reacting to memories from the past or pre-occupied with future plans. These are two major sources of chronic or long term health problems.

“Do you want to try it?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Good. No books, papers and pens. If you don’t want to try it, it’s ok. Please just sit quietly respecting others sitting in meditation. See how it feels. Let’s begin. Focus on your breath, ‘in, out, in, out.’ He dimmed the lights.

After five minutes he played small bells.

“How did it feel?”

“Beautiful,” whispered a girl.