Weekend Sky: have I met you before?

After years of absence I remember former zeal in taking part in a photography enthusiasts’ group like this. Here is my impromptu sky shot last February after a sumptuous meal celebrating a birthday. As a lifestyle, I hardly attend such occasion. There was zero attendance in the last three years. This was a special time and I enjoyed the fun and noise with everyone speaking at the same time, and no one listening. For a change someone called from the balcony, “behold the sky!” And here is my shot of that moment (unedited).

Here is my little haiku to go with it:

a sky speaks, behold,

come sup with me, beloved,

fill your plate, be bold.

https://hammadrais.wordpress.com/2023/05/13/weekend-sky-100-may-13th/

seeing beyond zero visibility

What do you do with zero visibility? A man who posted this in the chat exclaimed that visibility was zero at that point but he was determined to get home in time to cook the family reunion dinner. Yes, a man rushing home from work so that he could give his family of grown up live-at-home working children a real treat.

He loves cooking and has owned food and beverage businesses in the past. His family persuaded him to retire and he has since gone into minor home expansion construction line. But he has not stopped cooking. He treats his own home like a cafe, rises extra early just to cook for the day before he goes out. The wife and children can eat them cold or heat them up after work. The soup and rice are always kept warm.

Daily I read a different menu across the ocean in the group chat. His heart has remained a chef. On special days (reunion, birthdays, Christmas, New Year Eve) he goes home early and cooks for his loved ones and old faithful clients really special dishes.

In writing too, at times, I ask if I should move on to a more leisurely field. Because writing an original story, like a chef cooking, is not a delegable job, and can become taxing as years go by. But then, I know because that is where I have laid my heart, one day, I too, may have to resort to making a menu for writing bite-size stuff for the sake of a few very old loved ones, a handful of friends, and even some faithful stranger-readers I have never met.

2023-02-10

a clear day in 2020 and a mysterious sound

I was fooled by the same sound twice. To date I am still trying to photograph the culprit, in vain. Which is more helpful to a photographer, albeit an amateur, the sight or the sound? More raw/unedited pictures from an old Samsung. 2020 May.

Today my random thought wandered to the sound of things rather the sight of things. Which is more important to a traveler? The sound or the sight? A photographer will choose sight anytime. A video recorder will want both.

For a writing person, we imagine lots of things, from a picture that tells a thousand stories. But sounds may be simpler to work with, like the happy noises made by the local’s children right now in the park!

Nevertheless, I have been fooled too, by sounds. After house (with a park) and dog sitting for a friend for several occasions I spoke as a passing remark on the long distance phone, “you know, one of the houses nearby seems to have a faulty alarm that went off all the time.” I finally solved that mystery much later. After settling in another house (with another park), one day I woke to listen to sounds and found the same alarm go off for hours. So I told the friend when she called to check how thing were in a new place. When I was ready to host a high tea, I invited her. While eating English muffin, I casually remarked, “There it is, another alarm going off and nobody cares!”

The outburst of laughter that followed was remarkable as it was indeed out of character. With tears rolling down her cheek, she finally uttered, “O you poor… bumpkin! Have you never heard of the marvel of a real life cicada’s song?”

I have been trying to photograph a cicada ever since, to no avail. And I no longer pride myself for recognizing sounds of various species/things.

2023-02-07

p/s: What’s black and red and heard all over? A cicada, of course. The chirping and clicking noises of the male cicada are actually a species-specific mating call that can be heard by females up to a mile (1.6 kilometers) away. (Googled)

one morning the sky changed thrice

A photographer never knows what they can capture when looking up. This morning I took a few pictures at random. The sky outside. While working on screenshots I took a cup of coffee and noted the sunshine, which was quite a pleasant change after a number of seemingly endless rainy days (and nights)! But I was delayed and the sky had changed by the time I went out. The first picture was the gloomy sky that greeted the mobile phone. I went back to the work desk and continued my task. After about 30 minutes I looked up and noted the brilliant sunshine all over the yard and park. It was like the sky suddenly decide to brighten up for another coffee break. The subsequent two pictures were taken with the same old Samsung at my second cup of coffee.

There was a season when I was rather keen on taking photos of the sky especially from an elevated higher floor/ground, sitting in the sun and enjoying the view. The pictures show another perspective which we do not normally see when we are in the valley (or at the lower floor level) and tend to be occupied with the clutters down there.

The sky and its vast space can be fascinating. One never knows what one can capture on a fine day.

Looking at the sky and the vast blue beyond it represents can bring a person to thinking of another realm, whether imaginary or real. We can never claim that we know all. We can only see a tiny bit of our own world, and mostly through what others present to our sight. Either facts r fictions. What more worlds and worlds beyond this?

A young person and I like to look for pictures within the sky pictures we take. And we challenge each other to spot faces of angels, animals, and all sorts of stuff, like a treasure hunt. I remember the appearance of a huge heart from a picture I took while walking up a hill. It was a beautiful and well-painted white and fluffy heart in the sky, against the backdrop of a blue sky. it was so clear that no one can miss seeing it. A love letter in the sky. The amazing thing was that it stayed and lingered there as I climbed up and remained there until I started home. I saw it dissolving gradually as I walked down and walked pass that stretch of the hill.

It was a time when nearly all joggers or strollers wore face masks. Some were walking their dogs. The dogs were mask-less. We would normally greet each other with a slight nod or a raised hand from a distance due to social distancing. Some dogs were friendly and had to be restrained from running to anyone other than its owner. When the snow came, often I walked alone as most people avoided walking up due to the snow. Yes, those were days when we had to keep looking down to not slip and fall. And the sky remained unchanged with a grey veil.

2023-02-06

wintry marvel 2019

It is coming to three years since I left this 8000ft high mountain. The beauty of the snow. When it first arrived in October 2019 out of the sunny clear blue sky I was stunned beyond words. The weatherman forecasted it. The school made announcement and told us to subscribe to a the radio broadcast alert for closure if needed. But I was in doubt, being an entirely new kid on the block. But it came. Right on the dot. When I woke up one morning there was no more color out there. Where did all that snow come and how did such marvel happen? I remember the awe I felt then of the reality of creation. Here are some of the pictures found at random in my old phone, taken on 20191028. Unplugged.

a quiet place where our minds meet -a poem

daily I wait

for your rustling footsteps climbing up the winding path of fallen leaves

by now you must have greeted all wayside gleefully waving daffodils

in size, by name, and of every distinct shade of gold

finding the ever changing doorway to reach our secret garden where our minds meet

for warm cups of freshly brew tea and genuine English muffins

in the tender coolness of many breezy afternoons

we whisper and converse and discourse words and sentences and pages and volumes

at times clashing tiny silver spoons and forks and minds

with frown brows, yet hearts at ease and all in good humour

knowing that this ad hoc assembly of words will be of transient consequence

as full stop daily we halt at the umpteenth semicolon (after we lose count) bidding goodbye and see you

(and remember tomorrow repeating rendezvous)

to this quiet place where our minds perchance meet.

kai 2022-06-24

CBWC: Cups (a study of shapes in Sepia)

https://ceenphotography.com/2022/01/06/cbwc-cups-or-glasses-containers-of-any-type/

2022-01-08

2021-12-11 sound mind’s poem -the same rain for tears

Looking through the old photos and archives of my blog posts, here is a find of a poem named “cheeky rain” (12-11-2017). It tells of how the old and the new intermingling in a person’s mind, made of memories neatly categorized by the brain, often mixing up the occasions and meanings. Enjoy and have a mindful year end reunion with your loved ones.

the same rain from the heart to the mind

He wants to share the beautiful newly painted white Pearl-Glo wall
all ready for Christmas and the New Year toll
instead his phone chooses to display a mind
dropping rain drops on his file
why it’s not what I want to send to my love he cries
no it isn’t but this is far better, the phone replies
what, even rain drops on my window pane cliché?
long ago i saw a drama performed on stage called rain drops keep falling on my head
i didn’t understand why my ma sang in swimsuit with pa dressed in sailor uniform pouring buckets of cold water on her head. no, it’s mixed up with i’m singing in the rain with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. not that, you nit, she says, I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair. (South Pacific)
Whatever you say. he says. She says, rain rain go away.
Since I miss the moment of capturing the beautiful white glistening in the rain I just have to send this picture from a mysterious phone and say I love you rain don’t go today. Last word he says. Rain rain go away last word she says.

Note: (2021-12-11) Here is a haiku from the heart to go with the mind.

the same rain for tears,

wet on cheeks dripping with smears,

here, love, I am here.

mind-man, 2021-12-11

a poet’s two ways to dispel an unwanted feeling

When we put our feelings in the boxes of perspective we feel safe. I just read some poems by a favorite poet in past gone years, and this is one stanza that I picked at random,

Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —
because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep. (by Pablo Neruda [1914-1973] )

Feelings are really one of the least safe things in life. How to stop a feeling that disturbs and even hurts? There are two ways. One way is to write a poem, or in my case, write a haiku, short and terse. Then I put away my unwanted feeling into the 17 sounds/syllables. For example, here is my haiku based on the above stanza from the famous poet.

go not a day long

vacant stare waiting forlorn

train not arriving

Another way of stopping an unwanted feeling is to pack it into a box. Label the boxes into perspectives. A dictionary’s definition (not exhaustive) of perspective includes: A particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view. A picture drawn in perspective, especially one appearing to enlarge or extend the actual space, or to give the effect of distance. A true understanding of the relative importance of things; a sense of proportion. You can name it whatever (just fill in the blank). And then put it aside.

Actually the key is “put it aside”. Can you do it?

Can I? Well, I have the haiku as a backup plan B. So one day if I find it real hard not to hear from you for a long long time, I may choose one of the two ways like a DIY dispenser of feeling numbing/removing fail-proof actions.

magic briefcase adventure: a conspiracy uncovered, three tests, a decision to make

Today, like any other fine weather day, he hikes up and beyond this 8000 feet high mountain. He responds to a call (from his Source) to go down the other side to investigate an unearthly signal for urgent help emanating from an area there. The hike is comfortable as the sun smiles at him and the winds gently brushes his rather school-boyish short hair, as he whistles an earth tune he happens to recall lately, “Maybe I’m bound to wander from one place to the next Heaven knows why but in the wild blue yonder your star is fixed in my sky…” (2015 Knopfler – Wherever I Go)

The small people are not the main issue for this alien man, whom we name K in this series, from another realm and space on earth as he only concerns himself with his assignment from the Light Source, guarding the four winds as a joint-outer-terrestrial defense for earth against a hostile alien alliance, the agent for the dark force in this universe. But he has a second encounter with the small people today after he watched them enter the opening of the rock up the mountain (read my earlier post on April 13, 2021 conspiracy part one).

As he approaches the site, he realizes it is near the other side of the cluster of rocks the locals named the city of gods. “We are expecting you,” a voice speaks from a wall of rocks, and an opening appears for him to enter into the world of the small people. He does not hesitate this time because he knows he is on an official assignment (from his Source). He is shown into an empty chamber of bright light even though he cannot see any light source. The small people appear to have advanced technology. “We need urgent help!” Said the voice, which is instantly echoed by hundreds of small voices in unison.

Seeing that K is not surprised and in fact has noticed that the chamber wall is lined with the faces of small people who camouflage as part of the wall, all wearing a veil of light on their faces.

The voice tells him that one of the small people went into an outer world to carry out a mission, was captured by the enemy, and was subject to an experiment, which could cause fatal mutation of cells, taking over the host eventually. When the mutant life spreads, it could put a whole earthling community to extinction. The small person survived and miraculously escaped and returned to tell his former plight.

“He lives. Because we are not fully earthlings. We have our own unique in-built life defense mechanism. But we have counseled and recognized that this is a premonition for earthlings. That is why we sent out our signal to the Light Source to send help urgently. We have been watching you work. You are the authentic messenger.” (True. K has been aware of them watching since he came to the SnowLand. He could not see them in the dark but he sensed their presence at night when he worked on the four winds protector. And he knows they are not hostile, always staying a safe distance and do not interfere with his work. in fact they have kept the wild predators away.)

This is not the time for K to ask further questions. His role is to solve the problem. But “How?” He asks himself. How is he to counter the impending invasion?

“We have the solution. And it has to be carried out by a full earthling with advanced intelligence, specialized training, and super-power beyond the natural earthling. We know that there are four of you on earth right now, each guarding one of the four winds. We requested you because you are the nearest to what we are looking for. “

K knows he cannot say no to this request, because of two reasons: his primary job is to keep the earthlings safe and he will be out of job if the earthlings are destroyed. More importantly, his superior has already agreed and issued the command fo him to connect with the small people.

The voice announces their condition. “We have to make you go through three tests. They are all related to the earthlings, how much do you care for them? Do you care for them more than you care for your own convenience or even safety on earth? They are crucial for our assessment of your candidacy for this assignment that could mean life and death depending on success or failure.”

K nods in agreement. The voice continues, “I see that you have brought your magic briefcase with you. You will need it.”

What are the three tests? Why does K feel uneasy? He was born into an earthling family with earthling parents. He has lived with the earthlings all his earth life. He has studied them and learned to become like them. Yet he starts feeling a tinge of unpreparedness and uncertainty about the tests ahead. He can see in his heart the visions of what he will be going through. Scenes that he has been avoiding all his earth life. (To be continued)

K, 2021-10-15

Past tales -revisit “where our lives meet, there is always time”

I first took part in Becky’s timesquare with this post, where our lives meet, there is always time posted on 12-27-2018. Looking at the pictures and the poem I realize how time has passed almost without notice. The story and poem (about an old love between a farmer and his old wife) faded like the deliberate fading effect of the pictures which were originally taken in 2015 in a homestay in a third world country.

The 2018 post was included in Becky#timesquare.

Here is an original picture in colors.

taken on 2015-04-05 in a bridal suite in a homestay in Cambodia

Becky’s past tales (2021-10-14)

Wordle #261challenge: a limp, a chest of gold and a beautiful lake

It started with a limp. More specifically it started on the day (a long time ago) when I fell down and sprained my ankle while hiking and met the mermaid in a tank. Here is the ensuing conversation:

Me (The solitary truant playing young person on hilltops): Good day, miss. (Not wanting to be impolite, while wondering which cringeworthy miscreant put her in that misfortune).

Mermaid: Good day, young sir. Can you help me please? I am freezing cold!

Me: (In a display of bravado , covered the tank with my plaid, a huge thick Scottish one) Ok, miss, I hope you feel better.

Mermaid: Thank you sir. I see you are limping. Is it painful?

Me: (Wondering what to do next, with my right ankle swollen and my body temperature dropping without the plaid) Yes, miss. Do you need further help?

Mermaid: Yes, I was kidnapped and placed up here. This is the rendezvous place for the crooks. They are returning soon.

Me: Where are you from, miss? I might be able to take you home.

Mermaid told me she lived nearby in a hidden lake and her father was the king of the lake which was full of ancient treasures. The kidnappers stumbled upon that secret, intruded their privacy, and found the magic lake on the particular day of the particular month it appeared to the human world and kidnapped her and asked her father for a chest of gold as ransom. She could show me the way if I could carry her tank on my back and limp down the valley on the other side of the hill. The breath taking beautiful lake would manifest to her when in sight.

Being the gallant youth I was then, we made our great escape. Miraculously I limped and somewhat swiveled down that hill and delivered that mermaid safely to her father and received a reward of a chest of gold. They changed the schedule of annual appearance after that. I never met them again. Yes, I did feel a tinge of sorrow when I thought that I would never get to write their story, so here it is, at last!

That explained why I did not have to continue my study or did a day of work ever since then. And that’s why I am writing such “juvenile” story.

What happened to my foot? Healed just as miraculously the moment we reached the magic water of the lake. The name of the Lake? Living Water.

2021-10-14

Wordle#261 Sorrow cringeworthy miscreant hide hilltops swivel plaid Freeze privacy escape mermaid limp

Pastsquares challenge: a time in California somewhere walking

Just a time in space. This picture was taken on February 6, 2016 while taking a brisk walk in a small sunny town in California. There were some lovely birds but I couldn’t make them stay still. I stood very still though, trying to look like part of the static scenery. Alas, they were more lively than I imagined. Anyway I am thankful that this picture is cheerful and colorful enough resultant of a solitary traveler’s quest that day.

Becky’s past squares

Pastsquares challenge: from a traveler’s past

taken from 2019-03-19 travel album (a traveller attending a wedding across the sea, on the eve, looking for a hair salon in an unfamiliar territory, googling in desperation. LOL.)

pastsquares challenge

Spiritual traveler’s notes 14: ‘tongue’ (reposted 2021-07-09)

this is another random episode I took from my classic spiritual adventure series, a fun story that has not yet ended. it was a story based on visions, dreams, and spiritual encounters/inspirations that I received.

sound mind journal

I decided to repost a further episode from this 2014 series of my story and took this one out at random. Enjoy.

Traveler Ying and 25 teens and children discovered that they were walking downward into the depth of the earth. The gentle slope soon became steep and slippery with the sound of dripping water. They could feel the dampness. Some children slipped and fell and scratched themselves. Some fell into mud puddles. The older children had to carry the little ones and their pace became slow. There were twelve boys and thirteen girls. Each regiment had a balanced mix of older and younger children so each was able to take care of its own.

The underground tunnel seemed to lead to a river as they could hear the sound of flowing water, which became louder and louder as they approached it. At last they stood next to a dark…

View original post 777 more words

Spiritual traveler’s notes 15: ‘individual’ (re-posted on 2021-07-09)

this is a story that came out of a spiritual encounter. It was fun writing the whole series which is yet to end. I took the whole lot away from the public shelf as I need to publish them as a book. Today I am prompted to post an episode so I took this one at random. I hope you will enjoy.

sound mind journal

I decided to repost a random episode from my 2014 story, as a treat to my readers.

Traveler Ying’s notes: I have been recording my own perspectives, on how an individual asks for divine direction in end days. However, I am reminded today that each individual must ask for himself or herself. Henceforth, the notes will speak for each individual as the Spirit leads.

Yu (the boy who spoke the language of the water creatures) wrote his account here:

I knew I could speak the water creatures’ tongue when I was about seven. Some bad people came and took my parents and they never returned. My aunt took care of me until she died when I was fourteen. She washed clothes for rich people and we went to the river everyday. My closest friend was a fish. One day I talked to it and it talked back. My aunt asked me…

View original post 833 more words

Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 364 TENDER and Who: a lament haiku

“tender is the night”

“who cares?” not so tenderly

she retorts point blank

……………

https://ronovanwrites.com/2021/06/28/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-364-tender-and-who/

The magic briefcase adventure: a random reading of one day

“This is where it all begins. Everything starts here, today.”― David Nicholls, quote from One Day. He never knew how he could ever forget the day they first met and began a strange, out-of-this-world relationship. Looking back now, he realizes how true these words have been to them, “You can live your whole life not realizing that what you’re looking for is right in front of you. Whatever happens tomorrow, we had today; and I’ll always remember it.”― David Nicholls, quote from One Day

He is back now in his own realm (which the earthlings call, planet) and has settled to his light years of taking a break after his earth assignment, an assignment which he will always remember, not only because of its colossal responsibility of a century as a guardian for the four winds, a shield for earth against external invasion, but also for the last task to complete a book/report on “the essence of love” involving emotion and feelings, the energy that drive the earthlings to make irrational decisions and actions.

He has kept a copy of the report, mainly in excerpts as the full set of research paper is too lengthy and detailed with sadness involving him, a part which stuns even a being like him, who has been programed not to feel or be emotive in the earth’s way. Yes, he has been deeply hurt and nearly ruined. And it is all because of just one earthling woman who remains a stranger to him as even now he realizes he has never known her.

While back to his realm, he continues a very disciplined life and switches back to patrolling the earth as a circling light when it is his turn, which is an annual event. He remembers his last farewell words to the strange enigmatic woman, when she was still alive and young, “when you look up the midnight sky on every February 14, no matter which time zone you are, you will see a brilliant white light that lights u the whole sky for an instant, and you will know that it is me.”

After leaving the place he names Snowland, they no longer contact each other. He carried on his assignment for several more decades, until he was allowed to leave earth. He did not know or find out (if he wanted to, he could) where she was and whether she was still alive. Sometimes it is better not to know. As he listens to the earthling’s book “One Day” today, he is stirred to remember her. And his eyes are moist and he feels liquids running down his cheeks. Yes, he has tears. They had some good days together, during the months of locked down up that 8000 ft high mountain.

He never questioned her past. And that was his mistake. She tried to tell him, disguised as narrating the story of a friend, or a project she was writing, but he preferred to stay out of her personal life. He learned too late. He discovered too late that she was not what he thought she was. When she unleashed the force of human emotion based on misguided feelings, he was totally unprepared and did not know how to respond as a human would do. He had never learned how to. It was like a powerful tidal wave with the force equal to 8000 locomotives or 25 million horses pounding against an unwavering cold stone wall. At her uncontrollable raging he continued to think and analyze, “Why does she hate so much? Why do human hurt themselves with hatred?” He could see her pain, but he could not feel. He was merely a bystander in her world.

In short, he does not know human kind of love, or any emotion called love and hate at all. He really cannot fathom how a human can love and hate at the same time, to the point that they want to destroy in the name of love.

Ka,2021-05-04

Simply 6 Minutes—04/13/2021: a random birthday simply musing

not many enjoy birthday and I am one

yet it has to come and it is always done

a friend who is kind to bake a cake sends it by drone

landing so centered right on my newly laundered lawn

she rings and instructs me to remember the pond

making sure the weeds are pulled and the stagnant water drained

a party she says I must have and she is sending a crane

sure enough she means business to any horror known

worst of all come all the anonymous cons

birthday sir we all must come

seeing your great sign down the street says big welcome

what? a sign? who? when? how? It finally dawns

a friend kindheartedly put up so I won’t deny

another year another growing up another party mournful morn. (aftermath)

(134 words)

Ka, 2021-04-13 (my actual birthday)

https://christinebialczak.com/2021/04/13/simply-6-minutes-welcome-to-the-challenge-04-13-2021/

Simply 6 Minutes

Day Twelve: from Dareia to Ecotopia —a poem on time

From Dareia or Dorothea

to Ecotopia or Dyson Sphere

story upon story the legend carves

on shimmering decorated glass windows of old

we view dimly through muse’s telescopic lens

not knowing how it began and will ever end

magic briefcase adventure: a conspiracy cover up

No one really knows what happened up that 8000 ft. high mountain of snow or the fact that the small people live up there deep inside the wood. When he was given the assignment as a guardian of the four wind for earth and transferred to this Snowland as the last part of his term of service, he though it would be another quiet and solitary assignment. How wrong he was as it turned out. It is not the land that is the matter. It is the people. Or rather, it is one individual earthling, a mystical woman whom he never got to know or understand. The small people in the wood are not the issue. They actually became good neighbor. But this one earthling woman suddenly appeared in the serenity and he was unable to solve her puzzle. It is not fair to blame her for the failure of his last assignment. It is just that human are too complex to fathom.

He first met the small people after he escaped from the lodge and walked deep into the wood. he did not expect to meet any creature because it was mid day and the sun was shinning bright onto the trees. It was a long and pleasant walk. Then he heard the sound of people rushing pass him. But he could not see them at first. The sound of running feet was real and clear. He stood and listened. The wood was still. Soft breeze was whispering through the branches. But the sound of running feet was on the ground and not up there. He squatted and looked at the ground intensely. At first he could not see them.

But soon he noticed the moving of dry twigs and leaves. When he looked closely he saw that they were not twigs and leaves. They were people camouflaged as dry twigs and leaves. it was like a migration because these small people were carrying lots of bundles/boxes that resembled luggages on their backs. They did not seem to notice his existence. They were bent intent to rush to their destination, marching like a troop of military ants.

He decided to walk with them and tried not to step on them. But soon he discovered that no matter how he walked they were able to detect his movement by instinct or an inbuilt secret radar detector. They knew how to avoid being stepped on while rushing forward without breaking ranks. He decided to run and noted that they moved at the speed of his running speed, incredibly effortlessly fast. While he followed them and ran forward towards an unknown destination, he marveled at their accuracy and discipline and wondered whether these people were robots.

After an hour of upward climbing they reached the “city of gods”, walls of bare red rocks standing precariously overlooking the steep valley on the other side of the wood, beyond which he could see golden mountains rising above the clouds in mid-sky, rolls and rolls of them, lining the blue beyond like a belt of shinny shimmering decorations inserted by a giant painter.

The small people halted and arranged themselves into rows on the flat plateau beneath the wall of rocks. Suddenly the rock opened and revealed an entrance of about his height. The rows of small people started moving into the entrance like flood water downhill, and soon he could not see them anymore. And he heard a voice coming from inside the entrance

“Are you coming in or not? We haven’t got all days! You, I mean you, the man from outer space!”

Yes, it meant him. There was no one there except him and he was the man from outer space. So he had reached a point with a choice between curiosity and duty. Should he continue this strange journey to another unknown world? Or should he decline and return to his four wind mission on earth at the Snowland?

He was trained to obey the One who sent him. “No, sir, I am not going inside. Thank you for your invitation, sir.”

He watched the entrance closed up. Then he turned and returned to the Snowland lodge where he continued his earth life, guarding the four wind, and putting up with a woman fellow lodger whom he could not understand, not to mention having to write a book about her!

He actually got to meet the small people again. But that is in another episode. (to continue)

Ka, 2021-04-13

Magic briefcase adventure: Does he celebrate birthday? Does it matter to her? Or anyone?

Does he celebrate earth birthday? The question suddenly appeared as he glanced at his social network message board. He has never really thought of such matter about himself. In fact he hardly think of himself. In a day’s time it will be another chronological birthday for him on earth. After seven decades, he can hardly recall how he first remembered a special day called birthday that his earth parents celebrated for him, just like any other kids. On that day they normally made him eat one whole boiled egg by himself. In those post-war years it was considered a luxury when the kid was only one out of a brood of seven. The question is from her, the earth acquaintance for a year in Snowland.

It is a surprise to him to read her sudden message, after nearly a year of silence. Does birthday really matter? Of course most parents like to recall that day when their kid came to earth, mostly crash landing with a loud cry of disappointment at the harshness of the external zone (tearing away from their hitherto comfort zone). That is the way he observes things, somewhat different from the earthlings.

She uses a strange new name. But he knows it is her. His social network message board is restricted to a few friends only and they normally do not message or comment anything. It is a silent and dusty board. It is kept there for a purpose which the outsiders do not know. He decides not to reply her strange question. What is the point in the question? They have not established any relation, not even an acquaintance contact. His mission in Snowland has failed.

He remembers last year. She made something for him and ate her portion separately in the living room. He ate his alone at the dining table. He cannot remember what it is now. What a strange birthday party of two eating something in silence in two separate rooms. It reminds him of war.

His earth parents went through a big war. They got married because of the war. The war destroyed his mom’s love, hope, and dream, that is, enrolling into the medical school like her fiancé did, but he was killed by a bomb while traveling north to the university. She had to flee the invaded country instead and ended up in a foreign land marrying another man, and had seven kids during and after the big war.

Why is he thinking of big war now? He is a guardian of the four wind on earth —an invisible shield against invasion by warlords from other planets and zones from other universes. He has failed to finish his report on earthling’s emotion, and is now serving his extended term in a different site (away from Snowland).

Perhaps he will eat a boiled egg tomorrow, to remember his own earth parents who have really shown him the essence of sacrificial love, by rationing their own food and making sure the children were fed well, particularly making each individual kid feel special on his birthday.

Ka, 2021-04-12

simply six minutes—magic briefcase adventure: first day in Snowland

Looking back he can still see her face. It is not a face that can conceal or even bother to conceal the heart. She is of indeterminable chronological age. She is not young. No, there is no wrinkle and she has done a lot on up-keeping her looks and her fitness too, tall, slim, and a strict keto disciple in terms of diet.

But it is the facial expression that reveals her heart. She tried to be civil. So she started with small talk like the weather, the flight, the lodging house sharing and so on. They were in the kitchen and had to decide who used which side. Seeing she was standing near to the dining and living area, he chose the far side which was near to the garage and tool house.

She suddenly said something about her (chronological age related condition) being a dry prune and it no longer mattered how she looked. It was a shocking statement to him. They were merely fellow lodgers. They were each assigned there on Snowland for separate missions which they did not disclose to each other. They merely shared the facilities of the accommodation.

When she blurted out that statement he watched her face. It was a mirror of her heart. A once beautiful face, now twisted into a shape which only revealed a deep, heavy, and even hostile, disguised sadness that was heart wrenching. It was far more than reading any sad mysteries of earthlings. How was he going to learn about the love and hate emotion of earthlings for his report? He dreaded from the first day of their encounter.

But this is his last work station and last chance to complete the remaining half of his century long assignment on earth so that he will receive his due award, a retirement back to his home planet/realm. While spending long hours in pondering on her expression, he wondered what has made a beautiful woman grow into such sadness. He has researched this subject in many fields of study. There are many possible factors and variables. Earth has acquired the technology that prevents a person growing old physically, through constant practices of up-keeping their body and mind. But there is something that they cannot up-keep, that is, their deteriorating emotion. And it shows on their faces, and affects their behavior. Often it can cause harm to themselves and others.

That is why he has been assigned this task of studying their emotion, particularly the kind of emotion called love that can drive all other aspects in life.

The first day of encounter signified that his challenge would be tough. He tried to stay neutral and adopt the stance of a researcher. He posited that with time he would adapt to her pattern and be able to complete his report. He neglected one pertinent aspect, how did she see him that first encounter? What was her perspective and impression of him? What does he mirror?

Much later, towards the end of their separate assignments, she suddenly blurted out, “I have never liked you, even from the first day.” He did not know then whether she was telling the truth or she was just trying to convince herself that she has never invested her feeling for him. But he knows now. (to continue)

Ka, 2021-04-03

simply six minutes—the magic briefcase adventure: Does love make one a fool or do only fools fall in love?

Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. How little does he know this will be the lesson he has to learn on his last mission. Guarding of the Four Wind on earth is only 50% of his mission. The other 50% is to study the most influential power source on earth and submit a full investigation report on completion of his four wind assignment. Because he is beyond earth time he is not subject to the chronological aging process on earth. His term on earth is a century and he has already served 70 earth years. He has been assigned to the other stations of the four wind. This snowland station is his last assignment. He is an elite “engineer” in earth term and the hardware (technical) part of his assignment is no issue to him. On the other hand, the “software” part is a real puzzle which he has little remaining time to crack.

What is exactly the most powerful power source on earth? Based on his last seven decades of interactions with earthlings, he knows, and has completed the bulk of the report, mostly in theory and concept. But now he is stuck. He has to do the practical empirical evidential based part of the report, and he has to find a live object to study and actually interact with first hand.

When he was transferred to this Snowland station he knew this would be his last chance. He has failed three times previously. This time he cannot afford to fail. Failure is just too costly to bear. Briefly, he will be compelled to extend his assignment contract for another century in another planet or realm. And he is looking for a retirement back to his home planet/realm.

Outwardly there is everything good about him for the last assignment: tall, slim, fit, smart, a chiseled facial look, deep-set eyes of a color that is most pleasant and acceptable to most earthlings, a default expression of a highly intelligent and elegant being. He has been trained to know many languages and cultures. People are naturally drawn to him because he is genuinely kind and selfless with the backdrop of the apparent show of good tase and a cut above others. He has been programmed to look thirties. No, he is not an AI robot or a clone. He was born to a normal earthling couple and had a normal childhood. His only difference from earthling is that his entire nurturing, education, and training were all done by a more advanced source beyond earth from his original realm. And he is in constant communication with them.

His remaining task is to find an earth woman and study what love is. Yes, ironically, love and hate are the most powerful influence on earth. This is the main obstacle for completing his report. He is not required to fall in love but he must find out what true love means and why it turns to hate with unimaginable destructive power. His report is aptly named: “The essence of love”. Why focus on love and not hate? Because, alas, the two words are interchangeable on earth.

This is what he finds out on the Snowland, his final station. (to continue)

Ka, 2021-03-31

simply six minutes—the magic briefcase adventure: “I don’t want to be a tree, I want to be its meaning.”

As he now remembers Snowland and the mystical woman he met up there at 8000ft altitude, he remembers how the trees have impacted him, as he tries to associate her with something they both can relate to without feeling bound. Both of them value independence and privacy above all else, even their strange unique relationship. The have found a few common interests, or rather, safe and indifferent topics to talk about casually. And trees is a safe topic, aside from coffee, deer, and snow.

When he first arrives the trees are green. Within a month the snow comes suddenly. He is shocked. All his past assignments were in the tropics. Snow is a novelty. In his homeland in outer-space, there is no snow or season. They live beyond earth time. While on earth he has always been the guardian of the South Wind which control station is located in an evergreen island in the tropics. This new assignment up the 8000 ft of a mountain in the West (or near West) is entirely different from what he has accustomed himself.

When the snow comes it is sudden and all encompassing. When he returns from an outside assignment he is caught in camera by her standing on the top of the stairs of the sundeck. The deck is steeped in at least 12 inches of snow. The trees are his background. He still has that photo. Green trees with snow all over their branches and trunks. He looks stunned. What a sight!

But it is not so much the sight of the green trees covered with brilliantly white snow that puzzles him. It is the meaning of those trees. Sometimes he compares himself with a tree to the earthling. A living and thriving being with its branches all pointing towards the sky, the location of the light source and life sustenance. Like the earth writer Orhan Pamuk once wrote, “I don’t want to be a tree, I want to be its meaning.” He wants to be a meaning of things. Being a meaning is different from being a physical existence.

He wants to be a meaning for existence. How to communicate this to her, an earthling? They are there together and yet not together, each existing each own meaning. He has had many acquaintances in his many decades of living on earth. But none is like this acquaintance on the high mountain. She is not a local. She comes from the oceanic continent. Is she on a secret assignment like his, guarding the earth? She never talks about it and he is not expected to ask. She does not ask him his too.

So he puts his mind on the trees. They are his great and faithful companions. They tell him a lot of things through the sound of the wind as he takes long walks on the paths meandering through the snowy woodland. But they never talk about their meaning on earth, not the kind he hopes they will reveal. He knows the textbook stuff of course. He imagines there is more —the unwritten ones, the often chuckling and sometimes sighing thoughts deeply embedded in the ancient tree trunks. He has never found out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here is a hauntingly beautiful song for memory sake

I will remember you, will you remember me? I’m so tired but I can’t sleep Standin’ on the edge of something much to deep It’s funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word We are screaming inside, but we can’t be heard I’m so afraid to love you But more afraid to lose Clinging to a past that doesn’t let me choose Once there was a darkness Deep and endless night You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me life

[https://youtu.be/nSz16ngdsG0]

simply six minutes —the magic briefcase adventure: silent painting

“Painting is the silence of thought and the music of sight.”― Orhan Pamuk, My name is Red. To the man from a distant planet, a higher realm than earth, snow falling is like painting. A gigantic hand is brushing over the land and everything else in the Snowland with white paint. Not surprising. Because the invisible hand is so huge, earthlings think that the snow just comes by itself without any deliberate action of anyone. But he knows it differently.

Where he lives they are more advanced and know a lot more stuff compared to the earthlings. For example, the thing called love. He is looking at the snow falling and the building up of the thick white blanket out there below his window sill. Why does he think of love suddenly?

Because he suddenly thinks of the music of sight. They both like music. She and he. Jazz and classical. She does not talk about her likes and dislikes at all. They are mere acquaintances stuck up there on this snowy mountain of 8000 ft. above sea level. Talking about music or painting means getting close. And they want to avoid it.

One day she listens to him singing in the bathroom at random. When he emerges she says, “you seem in a good mood, singing.”

Another day she reminds him of manner. He has taken a painting from the common dinning place and hang it in his room. He has put back another picture on the empty space. But it happens that she only likes the one he has taken.

So he apologizes and puts the original picture back to its original place behind where she sits when she does her zoom meetings. She wants that picture to be in her background. So does he. He moves it to his room for the same purpose!

Amazing how much common interests they do share without talking about them. In a way it is like watching the snow being painted outside accompanied by inaudible yet beautiful music performed up there in the great beyond. The silence of thought and the music of sight beautifully being presented to the two of them, alone in a big house.

The sharing of the color of the snowland, the serene silence in the house except for the occasional jazz played softly in separate rooms, and the unspoken understanding that each has his or her own space, and a common picture in a common room, and many other small things, all create a feeling of calm affiliation. He somehow thinks it is related to an unselfish thing called love.

2021-03-19

simply six minutes: magic briefcase story-snowland’s goodbye song

It has been a short year for him after that parting. When he hears this goodbye song today he feels an ache in his heart. Why?

As he looks through the blog trying to sort out some old posts, he sees a goodbye song. He listens to it. And he feels sadness, just a tinge. It has been nearly a year since the parting in the snow land 8000 ft above sea level. He has no idea where she is or how she is now. Sometimes he notices that there are viewers on his many blogs from her country. But he doesn’t know for sure whether she is in their midst. Sometimes he likes to imagine it is her. But why the sadness? They have nothing between them at all, aside from the brief history of being lodged together up that mountain during the isolated months, in total, around eight months. What have they in common otherwise?

The snow. Just the whiteness of the color out there. Snow everywhere. For a person so used to many vibrant colors all his life the monotonous color scheme is a change, a shock at first, then a pleasant conditioning for a long winter season. It is like having no distinction between seasons, except the choice of nature to have snow and not have snow. So he calls the place snowland in his fiction stories. Yes, he writes a story of an alien in the form of a human man from the power of light being assigned to snowland to man one of the four winds corner on earth to guard and protect earth form other outer space’s dark power. He dedicates the story to her, an earth acquaintance who “happens” to be there with him, or for a mysterious purpose? She never knows who he really is or his true mission. Neither does he know hers. They are civil to each other despite their apparent differences. However, the snow conveniently covers up the differences on the faces of the earth like a thick veil.

The snow is a common topic of conversation. Very bland and safe. No one can get dangerously close to each other talking about the weather. They are weather acquaintances.

When the time arrives, she returns to her home country. He stays behind for another round of eight phases of the moon and then flies away. The snow comes three days before his departure in early summer. Yes, s summer snow just for his goodbye to snowland.

It has been a short year for him after that parting. When he hears this goodbye song today he feels an ache in his heart. Why? he knows it is a strange kind of “affinity” which he has never experienced before. Somehow, he remembers some moments of kindness from her. Some goodness from her. He remembers one afternoon he went walking and darkness suddenly came to the wilderness. He was venturing into a new territory alone. It took him many hours to get through. Then he heard his phone ring. “Hi. Where are you? I can come over with my car to give you a lift. It is no trouble at all.” The temperature had suddenly dropped and the wind was hollering. And he was not in his winter gear. But he thanked her and declined her offer.

As agreed, they have never exchanged any updated phone or address. They have mutually put a full-stop to their once-upon-a-time mutual hospitality path.

Why does today’s goodbye song give a strange feeling of sadness? The song is just a common harmless Auld Lang Syne sung by Dougie MacLean, a Scottish, songwriter, composer and extraordinary performer, in his unhurried, calm, gentle voice, telling his acquaintance that they can each buy a cup of draught, for kindness sake, if they meet again.

He supposes that’s what they can do, drinking a bottle of red wine (her preferred drink) or cups of freshly brew coffee (another common denominator they once shared in snowland) perchance they shall meet again somewhere on earth.

Kainotes, 2021-03-05

[https://youtu.be/wPnhaGWBnys] Auld Lang Syne by Dougie MacLean

[https://youtu.be/kmWCAvCRJ1o] Mark Knopfler ft. Ruth Moody – Wherever I Go (Official Video)

Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Challenge 346 SLIP and Time. (acquaintance answers back)

re your wintry slip*

makes me laugh and makes me weep

tis time for goodbye

*slip=note

Note: this is the second part of my previous haiku (slip for an acquaintance)

https://ronovanwrites.com/2021/02/22/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-346-slip-and-time/

Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Challenge 346 SLIP and Time. (slip for an acquaintance)

giving her a slip

hoping she won’t call him creep

redeeming a time

https://ronovanwrites.com/2021/02/22/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-346-slip-and-time/

a haiku on joy and happiness

color my bland day

painted paper stone and clay

purple yellow green

Kainotes, 2021-02-19

a haiku and a prose for 2021-02-14

A Haiku

Because love hangs on

patiently adorns each hope

undaunted beyond

A Prose

He has no idea how she has felt after all these decades, 29 years in all. He once thought they would have a long long time together and be happy ever after. In real life their time does not work that way. Time is not exactly a master but it influences. Like the fashion influencer today in the digital virtual realm. It would take herculean efforts to conquer the insurmountable hurdles set in the race of time across oceans and mountains.

Unlike today’s generation, communication was costly then. They could hardly meet or even talk on the phone. He wrote a letter daily after a long day’s work and posted it the following morning through his office boy. She later told him that her postman only delivered a stack of outdated mail once in a while. He spent his daily travel allowance calling her long distance and burnt away cold cash just for a few minutes of hearing her voice. He can still recall the time after each call. He would walk to the bay beach outside his hotel, sat on a rock and watched the sunset. He would hope, as he scanned the distant horizon, to sight a seabird or two, often in vain. The city was one of the most developed in the world, and there was hardly any space or free sky left. The bay was beautiful but it was not a home for any wild creatures.

What was on his mind? He cannot remember now. Perhaps he was imagining that somehow a strong courageous sea bird had flown to her window, perched there in the warm sunshine, at the other end of the ocean, and now came to him with a touch of her fresh air, carrying a slice of her vibrant life for him in that cold, misty, gloomy city of the lonely. Yet, today he suddenly remembers a quote about a higher kind of love. “There is no justice in love, no proportion in it, and there need not be, because in any specific instance it is only a glimpse or parable of an embracing, incomprehensible reality. It makes no sense at all because it is the eternal breaking in on the temporal. So how could it subordinate itself to cause or consequence?”― Marilynne Robinson, Gilead.

All in all, he has no regret. Whatever they have spent together and held on in time for each other. Today is an ordinary Sunday. He stands in his garden and thinks of the time that he still has. The garden is fresh and sparkling in life after a Spring rain. Yes, Spring is here. And the day is February 14. So he decided to write this missive and like old time, post it by snail mail. She likes to hear the ring of the postman. He remembers.

Kainotes, 2021-02-14

Tuesday photo challenge —tomorrow: a haiku

come tomorrow come

hope on hope ahead in time

lasting love joy peace

week 213 of the Tuesday Photo Challenge

https://dutchgoesthephoto.net/2021/02/02/tuesday-photo-challenge-tomorrow/

Weekend Sky #14: city above the clouds (a haiku)

his daily routine

walking up this mountain clean

scanning sky beyond

Kainotes, 2020-01-09

https://hammadrais.wordpress.com/2021/01/09/weekend-sky-14-jan-9th/

Simply 6 Minutes 12/29/2020: there was another life that I might have had…

“There was another life that I might have had, but I am having this one.”― Kazuo Ishiguro

He is really thankful whenever he thinks of what he has that brief season. He sometimes wishes that he has another life, a normal human life, instead of being a “man” from another world, stuck on earth in an assignment to protect earth. Of course he has never thought that he would have been involved in any relationship with any earthling.

It was really a very brief year. She appears suddenly, not for any reason. She just happens to be a fellow lodger in that mountain lodge. The locked down order comes just as suddenly without notice and they have to live with each other. Just the two strangers on a mountain of 8000 ft above sea level.

From the start, they seem to know each other. Not in names or physically close. They seem to have a supernatural encounter that morning when he arrives. She is in the kitchen. She is making a cup of coffee for herself and makes one for him.

“don’t drink that instant stuff.” She says.

He doesn’t ask why. He enjoys that freshly brew cup.

The snow comes just as suddenly as the locked down notice. To him it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t get to meet or talk to anyone in person outside except the delivery men for food and other necessities. He can still walk and hike up the mountain as his daily routine. He talks to the trees and the wind. Oh, he talks to the small people up there too. People whom she doesn’t know. He works at night and walks in the day. No, he is not restricted by any human system. He doesn’t tell her this but she somehow watches him and knows.

What does he have that he can give her? He is one of the guardians of the four winds. He operates a security system that is beyond her human knowledge. He doesn’t talk about it. One day she sits across the dining table and tells him, I know who you are. You are a kind man. Too kind.

He looks at her in his usual calm and quiet way. Yes, she is right. He is programmed not to harm. He is very kind. Too kind.

Indeed, it has been a year of grace. A year of mercy. It is worth his life on earth. He has no regrets.

Kainotes, 2020-12-29

https://christinebialczak.com/2020/12/29/simply-6-minutes-welcome-to-the-challenge-12-22-2020-2/

(The challenge prompts: Even though we can’t have all we want, we ought to be thankful we don’t get what we deserve.)

Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku Challenge 337 OPEN and Solace: holiday colors

open to solace

undaunted by snow and ice

colorful flawless

Simply Six Minutes: Magic Briefcase Adventure six (about silent love and pain)

“How much can we ever know about the love and pain in another heart?” (Orhan Pamuk) He gave her a poem on her birthday, Rudyard Kipling’s “the power of a dog”. And she burst into tears while reading it and seeing a portrait of her dog that passed on prior to their strange meeting, the first time, on the snow mountain. He merely sat quietly and waited for her to compose herself. She never asks him why he decided to give her such a gift. After all they hardly know each other.

After that she drinks up her coffee and returns to her room. They never talk about that fateful morning when they sat down across the coffee table and she read the poem in tears.

The snow does not give notice. It just comes and goes on that mountain. The sound of the wind and the arrival of the lone young buck one day breaks the monotony of the lodge. The buck is limping. He is very young and has one single tiny budding antler. Has he encountered an accident? Why is he limping? She asks, not expecting any answer and he remains silent.

The wind sometimes howls at night, when he stays up all night to complete his earth assignment. He hears how they wind talk to the trees and the trees answer back through their branches and their leaves. They only talk after midnight when the wind visits his window trees. Sometimes they talk all night as he operates the four wind shield to protect earth.

One day she decides to name the buck Blessed. And they never saw him again after that.

She remains silent when they note that Blessed doesn’t turn up anymore. He sees sadness in her eyes. He knows she must have loved and felt pain in her heart. But they do not talk about heart issues. After all, they hardly know each other. He is merely writing a six minutes story about a strange kind of love.

https://christinebialczak.com/2020/12/15/simply-6-minutes-welcome-to-the-challenge-12-15-2020/

Haiku Challenge: The life and view of an old poet

framed in or framed out

emerged or submerged life dream

edging for a view

https://ronovanwrites.com/2020/11/23/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-333-life-and-view/

Haiku Challenge 332 EBB & Flow: the tide spills our soup

the tide spills our soup

rock and roll and ebb and flow

bowing to the floor

https://ronovanwrites.com/2020/11/16/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-332-ebb-flow/

Challenge 331 FIRST, Heal: gender perspectives (one story three haikus)

(Haiku one: Reconciled position)

distant rumble “heal”

who goes “first” he smiles she laughs

and they dance as “one”

(Haiku two: competitive position)

distant rumble “heal”

who gets “first” he asks she laughs

alas none no “one”

(Haiku three: neutral position)

distant rumble “heal”

who cares “first” not me (blank stare)

and thus not a “one”

https://ronovanwrites.com/2020/11/09/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-331-first-heal/

kinda green living (a plant and a haiku)

confining indoor

bringing sunshine all within

through this lovely green

https://beckybofwinchester.com/2020/10/26/kinda-square-26/

#KindaSquare: three (stags) of a kind at my front yard (haiku)

viewing from our side

man you’re really intruding

guys I’m by-standing

(Note: Conversation between them and me. Guess who said what?)

https://beckybofwinchester.com/2020/10/23/kinda-square-23/comment-page-1/#comment-42876

#KindaSquare: kinda focused (a man and his bird haiku)

no ordinary

man and pet bird with red chest

catching their day’s rest

https://beckybofwinchester.com/2020/10/22/kinda-square-22/

#KindaSquare: two of a kind (two stags haiku)

friendly visitors: two stags at the back yard

we stunt each other

new neighbor or intruder

neither ma’am we friends

Of its Kind

https://beckybofwinchester.com/2020/10/21/kinda-square-21/

#KindaSquare: two of a kind (early winter haiku)

a day to relish

early winter window dressed

white paint brandishing

https://beckybofwinchester.com/2020/10/18/kinda-square-18a/

“sometimes we just have to dig deeper” (a treasure hunter)

Digging into my treasure chest I found this today. Alas, my perspective remains unchanged though somewhat challenged. The following is an unabridged version. My task at hand is how may I write a sequel? No, I don’t mean a sequel in mere words which is easy and may be churned out like a budget standard B&B. I mean how can the lives of real people be put into a sequel complete with their realities?

Narrow? What narrow?

Crosslife Spaces , business as mission, endtimes solution, Innovative Management Strategy, man of faith and intellect, perspective, photography, politics, thoughts, transformed mind, travel 08/03/2016 2 Minutes

Narrow

“Sometimes all you can do is go on. One foot in front of the other, wherever the narrow path might lead.” I quoted this from somewhere about a spy’s narrow/precarious life. In some parts of the world, the ordinary life is comparatively narrow as a routine: narrow food as depicted by the thin corns (for men and for beasts), narrow transport (coach driven by a motor bike!), narrow space (with driver seat shared with a passenger with driver maneuvering the steering wheel with one hand!))and, sadly, narrow faces of many rural young ones who are generally undernourished and petite in sizes below their age.

Is there a choice? I ask as a mere traveler bystander. Can people choose? What kind of people will be able to breakout from their squalid environment and poverty? I know of many who really believe that education can get them somewhere. The parents sell off all they have and even incur huge debts so that their children can go to private college and university. But employment opportunity in foreign corporations remains limited and often has little choice in terms of salaries and benefits. I know of well-brought up, goal-focused youth who charge ahead bravely, studying two tertiary degrees and doing two jobs at the same time, hoping to get a better future! They are going to be the future for their currently small nations.

Are they narrow? No. They have a hope and a future. they are internally open and broad, even when on an external narrow path.

The food, the means of transport, and the physical stature do not make a man what he is. People read about the possible impact on many aspects of lives on earth due to the geographical polar shift. I personally believe that the internal ideology that shapes and drives a man can do more impact to the world than the external environment. I can see examples of more and more intelligent hard working and positive principled goals driven men who have emerged to shape the future of the globe which has become increasingly border-less. The contrary is also true. Those driven by personal greed and heartlessness do great harm to the world as well. The invisible polar shift.

Narrow? What narrow?

Profound

the perfect apathy

You remember and dwell on all the things you’ve lost and ignore all the things you haven’t. Because your scars are like stars. Yet the night stays perfectly black. —the perfect apathy (pleasefindthis Friday, August 7, 2009)

We could sing good songs about each other.

你仍记得，记忆留连在你失去的所有一切，却忽略了你仍然拥有的一切，因为你的伤痕就如同星辰，但夜晚却仍是如此完美的黑。（完美的冷漠）

我们其实可以为彼此唱出多么美好的歌呢

pleasefindthis (the pen name of Iain S. Thomas) is best known for the I Wrote This For You project, which he began in 2007 as a blog with photographer, Jon Ellis. The project was published as a book in December of 2011 and appears on bestseller lists weekly.
He lives in Cape Town, South Africa and shares his home with his wife, daughter and various animals.

alas the waiting is too long for all that jazz…

Alas, the waiting is too long…for all that jazz.

https://freemindconfession.wordpress.com/2017/09/18/alas-the-waiting-was-too-long-for-all-that-jazz/

while the sea remains as calm as the vast night veil

San Francisco

“The Winter comes too early to my heart”
Amidst falling leaves the geese fly south
over water chilled by a cold wind north
my distant home is up this river bend
in the Chu mountain’s cloud it hides
as my journey ends some tears are shed
Folks at home are yearning for this lone horizon sail
for I seem to have lost my way, my quest
while the sea remains as calm as the vast night veil

sound mind journal

new-horizon New Horizon Of course this horizon is familiar to many. It is at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I took this picture outside looking at the blue beyond. There were few visitors outside that day at that time. One friendly oriental couple with a young child were around taking photos like me. It was a sunny day. I was alone. The others had gone somewhere else as they had visited this place before. I saw some gulls. A sailing boat at the distant horizon. I decided to present this blue horizon with hope. At the same time I also add a sunset horizon at the coast of San Francisco.

Meng Haoran 孟浩然, a Chinese poet who lived from AD689 or 691 to AD740, wrote a poem about the horizon. I quote below the poem and my attempted translation.
早寒有懷
木落雁南渡,
北風江上寒.
我家襄水曲,
遙隔楚雲端.
鄉淚客中盡,
孤帆天際看.
迷津欲有問,
平海夕漫漫.

My translation below~~~~
“The Winter…

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