she proposed: a haiku (and a prose)

a hopeful tomorrow
a lake with gleaming mountain

a hopeful morning
distant mountain gleams with snow
good omen coming~~~~~~~~It was her phone call that started it. It came in the middle of the day, right after lunch or before? He can’t remember now whether he had lunch that fateful day. The five-star hotel dining area was crowded with festive faces, limbs and trunks, meandering around piles of exotic dishes that surfaced during particular yearly festive events. It was not a place to receive her call but he had nowhere to hide as it was jam packed with heads and toes in every corner of this room. He stood still despite being pushed and crushed by shoulders and chests all around. He shouted at the top of his voice, “Yes?” He heard something shocking, he thought. “I can’t hear you, please repeat!” He heard again, clearer, one specific phrase, “Marry me.” He thought he was hallucinating. “What? Please say again!” He did not mean to be rude but it was an unbelievable phrase and he thought it had to be his own imagination. He checked himself, “Am I drunk? Or am I daydreaming?” Neither, his clear cool rational head assured him, putting a tether (alas, in vain) at the same time to thousands of hooves of horses running wild in his mind right then. “You have to marry me. I can’t stand this anymore.” This time he knew there was no mistake and it was her asking him to marry her. She was vacationing in her parents’ home at the tip of a tropical peninsular and he was thousands of miles away at the tip of a great continent somewhere, at a busy city harbor on duty indefinitely until he was scheduled to move on. “Ok, when?!” He replied. She said, “As soon as you can!” He remembered the thousands of times he proposed and she had rejected. “OK, please give me a bit of time to re-schedule my life! Meanwhile, here is the key to my heart, please handle with care!” A year later, they got married. Today, after many years he suddenly remembers this scene. Why? He is on his way up a mountain on this continent and she is again separated by another great ocean. He has never asked for his heart’s key to be returned to him. She is still keeping it, perhaps in her memory treasure chest. The snow has stopped and the distant hills are gleaming. Somehow his heart lightens and feels cheered as he watches them and he thinks to himself.

“Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get her back. After all, tomorrow is another day.” (last line quoted with a slight modification from “Gone with the Wind“)

Dictionary word:
omen noun
the torrential rains on day one of their journey were an omen of things to come: portent, sign, signal, token, forewarning, warning, danger sign, foreshadowing, prediction, forecast, prophecy, harbinger, augury, auspice, presage; straw in the wind, (hand)writing on the wall, indication, hint; literary foretoken.

my journey of love: a haiku (and a prose)

cross road direction

time for reflection
heart’s compass has not failed us
true love’s direction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Direction can be confusing even for a seasoned traveler. For a European continental driver like him traveling in US is more so as he is compelled to drive on unfamiliar lane, opposite to what he has accustomed to do. He has found the same with relationship. For years he has been on an old comfortable familiar pattern and now he is being asked to travel on an unfamiliar path for the remains of his days. There is no roadmap in love. A superior decision has been made for them. There is no option except to obey and go on this new and separate way, to the same destiny. He can choose the mode of travel but he cannot choose the company. He can choose the direction at a junction but he cannot choose the destination. He cannot even choose the time to get there as he has an appointment that cannot be changed. What can he rely on? His heart compass. Because this is a journey of love.

a seagull at land’s end: a haiku

a seagull at land's endhiking to the sea

reaching an ocean instead

he soared as seagull

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

 the flocks and the herds
    and all the wild animals,
the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea,
    and everything that swims the ocean currents.

O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!

(Psalm 8:7-9)

(revised 2-25-16) a door opens: a haiku

 

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a door opens wide
while he is just walking by
pink and gold and light

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

Yet he gave a command to the skies above
    and opened the doors of the heavens;
24 he rained down manna for the people to eat,
    he gave them the grain of heaven.
25 Human beings ate the bread of angels;
    he sent them all the food they could eat.

(psalm 78:23-25)

vision

20150327 family day

they just stand and watch

in width depth height of vision

hope and faith they stand

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

[ A Vision of a Plumb Line ] Then he showed me another vision. I saw the Lord standing beside a wall that had been built using a plumb line. He was using a plumb line to see if it was still straight.

traveler”s mirror reflects: with or without things (a haiku)

white with stripes

whitefish

Fine times we have. Fine.

Sometimes we don’t have any;

life still goes on life.

traveler’s mirror reflects: a road of hope (a haiku with explanatory notes)

a road of hope

a road of hope, son

brings us to a bright future

compassion and love

————————–
Hope, compassion and love which are essential healing ingredients may be Clichés to many, for many people these are the heart-felt cries of men, women and children…even the ground and the creatures and plants.

Traveler’s mirror reflects: a wooden bridge (two haiku)

image

I can fast forward
excel in cutting edge tracks
precipitate fame
~~~
I beg to differ
hearing a different drum beat
lofty sublime call

My Real Life: Today the Spirit man hears, and speaks

Today the Spirit man speaks, as he hears.

In days to come Jacob shall take root, Israel shall blossom and put forth shoots and fill the whole world with fruit.” Isaiah 27

What does he do when he hears the voice? He writes. This is how stories and journals are born. Often he writes without fore-thoughts. They are words spoken, sounds that came to him spontaneously.

They are picture words. A picture comes to his spirit and he can see it clearly like a vision. The picture is real. It exists. Can he not do anything? He can choose to ignore such words, sounds, or pictures. But he likes them. He believes they mean something to someone somewhere.

He is a recorder. He records what he hears, sees, and believes.

Often one or two, sometimes more, travel pass, and sight his writings. The words and pictures draw them. They linger. Some visit again. Some decide to keep track.

Yesterday he discovered that seven readers from Namibia and seven from Nigeria came to one of his blog sites. Two from Namibia stayed and subscribed to follow his blog.

He had had readers from other parts of Africa, the more heard of cities. But this was the first time from Namibia. A real pleasant surprise! He felt the same elation one day when he saw a ‘huge’ (a few hundreds) group of south Koreans came to visit his blog too! They came to read all about Yom Kippur!

He had had visitors, viewers rather, from different nations, many are names to him. He has never known the existence of them. But the national flags come on, representing the existence of a special people, with its own words and sounds.

It humbles him to know how people of different sounds exist and survive. They all share one mode of communication, that is, using sound. Sounds are made into words, each of which denotes a meaning to a group of people. That group can then share with one another their individual thoughts, intents, wants and needs.

Lately he started singing Spirit songs. One night he was working on his new mobile phone testing its recording function. He felt in his spirit to sing so he sang sounds and words he could not understand. The next day he looked up the meanings of those sounds and found that a sentence consisted of words each with a meaning from five different nations! Together they formed one complete sentence asking him to download the lyrics of a very old hymn and post in his blog about a group of 26 Christians including 3 young boys, who were forced to march 600 miles (966 kilometers) from Kyoto to Nagasaki where they were martyred; all the while singing the Te Deum. He did publish that post the night before (on the anniversary date of the original martyrdom date, even though he did not know the meaning of what he sang) as his spirit had received the message.

Why are sounds given to man so he can hear and act? What is the purpose of narrating the above episode? The voice of certain origins cannot be silenced. They are crying out for remembrance. For whom? I believe there is a specific audience each specific voice calls. When they cannot hear, someone hears for them and get those voices published. The target audience will be led to the published voices and then hear, as they see (read the words and see the pictures in the words).

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