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A friend once described his cancer experience
as taking a dump in public,
I’m at the sauna watching a little kid skip off
just having flushed a semi private toilet
I wonder if this is a Western description, or
an age marker of how we see our body

There’s a woman in front of me
belly dancing with the water,
an old gal not afraid to show
a baseball size lump above her kidney
and another whose facial wrinkles juxtapose
the taut lean muscle of her torso

watching a medical procedure on tv,
much like my own, holds everyone in fascination,
Each culture has a unique relationship to their body
from what they choose to put on to what they choose to take off
how that skin, an organ that’s both dead and alive,
is worshiped is then unique to the individual

I look at my abdomen often,
like I look at my grandmother’s house in pictures of my childhood,
like I look at every apartment I lived in, before I turn in the key,
like I look at the gardenias in my mother’s garden,
Temporary and beautiful simplicity to cherish,
Everything will be okay.

The trees are completely bare
and the rain brings a foggy blanket
of soft yellow contemplation
and hair thin strings of light that enter my room.
I feel lonely.

For the next three weeks
a 10km walk and weights
will be like sleep to a soldier mid war,
making hospital preparations
makes me want this feeling to be so temporary,
but it’s not.

I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof,
like the surgery is broad casted on everyone’s mind the second we meet,
not knowing what to do but not wanting to be touched either
knowing I just want a hug and a kiss
but just don’t have anyone to ask it
so why be uncomfortable with a thought deferred?

Why do we make ourselves suffer?
The things that make me happy are many,
wearing bright color clothing in winter, taking photos,
writing, deserving a shower after a good workout,
loving the little things like a facial and learning every day–
I know friends by the language they speak to me
I want a partner as good as the friends I have.

In my quiet resignation and protest,
I throw myself in the wind, vacation message on:
China, Canon and Claudia on my mind, saying Nihao
to the land of the Terracotta army, Tiananmen Square and Great Wall.
Hope it hugs me in silk and kisses my tears away,
The world is big place to conquer.

The writing once shaped by the efficiency of reading scrolls,
The serenity of living high in the mountains,
The challenge of a culture and a language I assimilate into,
Many are the songs and praises to God’s glory,
Many more there will be,
I stumbled into mountains of beauty and grace,
I walk tall and in peace now,
Forever in love with Korea,
Forever singing praise be to God.

If you want to see a budding photographer’s view of the world in over 3k images, check out my flicker account by clicking any of the pictures, or go here. Sorry but the search feature is off… not all of me is public.

Cause life is just a bowl of cherries: “You will always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats.” - Colonial American Proverb via Quotes in Can

It’s the fate of the oppressed to always know their oppressor’s far better than they know themselves. After all, how do you define white without black. There is a third category that can best be described as the infinite amount of detailed missed on a black and white set. I have learned to recognize these people not by their propensity to run from black and white reactions to calm informative options.

Every one serves somebody. This can be called servitude, job, or marriage. In the end, it’s just the knowledge and fact that we are all interconnected. No war is waged individually but if only one can shine, the rest should be rewarded fairly. I wish I would have understood this at a younger age.

Once I understood this great “servitude” role that society asks us to play, I started looking at potential mates with the question of are you worthy of me and will you be as loyal and unwaivering to me as I will be to you. I have found that it is difficult to cut someone off and educate at the same time. I have found that allusions of shortcomings will fall on deaf ears on those that see themselves before they see me. I keep the company of those that listen and view them with respect and benevolence. I have found that my time has become more valuable and I must remind myself to be compassionate at all times. I found that the quality of my friendships have significantly increased though I remain single by my choosing. I have found this increasing need to be the best ambassador through my actions alone of my faith, community and teachers. I found I am stronger by acknowledging how weak I am.

I see interconnection opposite of the current banking crisis. The blame falls on many. How many executives will plead like a divorced Hollywood wife that they should be allowed to keep up their lifestyle? How long do I have to see the decline of my savings and hear that? I watch a 40 year old mother help her mother in a walker into the sauna. Ten percent of me I keep to love myself, the rest belongs in service to honor those I love. I wish that this would be a requirement of those in higher power, perhaps this could have been avoided.

I use to think of money as a negative sign from a person. Too much worrying is a sure sign of greed, for what is perceived in scarcity anyone will horde. Too little worrying, meant foolishness or a rich family background. A friend pointed out that a “money-less” society is unattainable because someone will always want to take more than their share. Money is a human made instrument to limit greed like a rope is to gallows and ships. I have since changed my indicator of a person from money to compassion.

I like and show my philosophical side the older I get though I take to silence in public more often. I also like this in my writing. Liking one’s self is important.
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“Strange thoughts are much like hangovers: you feel better without them…” –C. Bukowski
“It is better not to bring up daughters. They are a blemish to the family name and a shame to the parents. The eldest daughter is special.” –Hagakure

The India, Japan, and China albums have been created and Houston has been updated. Just click on the image above and go to my flickr account. Sorry but organization of over 3k images takes time.

I’ve often thought of lies as an act of getting dressed in the morning,
and truth as a milkshake full of sharp volcanic shards
to be drank like a cold glass of water on a hot summer day:
everyone lies.

Though lies are misinformation,
the color of lies are the most interesting part.
No lie is white but there are many with no repercussions,
the black cancerous make you question who is pained the most: the receiver or the giver?
but the flesh tone color lies are sins of ignorance,
why or how one does not know themselves is beyond me.

Flesh tone lies question things you know,
like never trust a man who lies for a living
turns to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I wonder if I am more ignorant for giving unearned space in my life
or for not leaving when I see discrepancy.

Cutting truth is a skill:
an imprecise cut leaves pain and no resolve
too deep of a cut
is a sure sign of immaturity, blinded by rage
for the code teaches loyalty, as much as compassion
and success is measured in the eyes of those affected
and not inside those doing the action.

So how do you strike that balance?
How do you become invested enough to search
but unaffected enough to get detracted by emotion?
How do you search motive
without being an executioner?
Do you pursue the color of the lie,
even when information is denied?

Like superman, we all want to see our perfect selves
unhurt, unscathed and shining bright in the eyes of others
It’s in the judging of ourselves
and wearing the skin of others
that we find wisdom and understanding
that the art of telling the truth, is not how right you are
but how successful you can educate.

By the end of this year, my travels will be in good number:

Thailand - Bangkok, Koh Larn, Pattaya, Chiang Mai
India - Jaisalamer, Agra, New Delhi, Jaipur
Japan - Fukuoka, Nagasaki, Osaka, Hiroshima
Korea - all eastern region

My 1st grade class learned the Macarena and sung me happy birthday. All that’s left is a poem. Here is my version of Nikki Giovani’s “Ego Tripping.” Hey, Neruda and Nikki can do it, why can’t I?

Big Pimp’n…(there’s just no stopping me)

I sat back on the mountain peak of my 31st,
A child at heart, the party of 100+ attendees
trotted all over the world:
From Frankfurt to India, Cali to DC, Buenos Aires to Pohang,
I am strong.

I gave myself a Thailand Elephant on the hills of the Hmong,
A camel to explore the Jaisalamer desert fort,
An interview with a Geisha one early morning treat,
Walking along side paupers and royalty with a Seoulian jade attitude,
…my lovers laid down the Floridian keys by my feet.
I am bad.

Before that, for my 15th birthday,
My mother gave me the moon in a necklace of pearls
and my father gave me the earth in a string gold
My uncle laid at my feet volumes of poetry and words
and my ant a five layered cake decorated with flowers
worth my weight in sweet delights
My friends played Sonoran trumpets that woke the morning sun for me,
I am a queen.

When my heart was broken
I cried a river that swelled pages of my journal
like the Mekong in Monsoon tides,
lachrymal sentiment fecundating California fires
all was dark and ashy,
all was a cry in the dark of a blues melody,
where the river took me was far and high.

So now I look ahead,
The Pyramids of Chichinitzen to explore,
where the moon cradled sun and Aztecs discovered dentistry,
while locals frolic and watch from Playa del Carmen, I’ll be there.
In front of Asian councils hours of evaluations
to be the first Colombian to achieve…I’ll succeed.
Hopping from island to island of tropical beauty
in Malaysian volcanic treasures of serendipity,
I’ll find…because there’s just no stopping me.

Happy Birthday to me!!

—
“Serendipity…such an accident of sagacity..” –Horace Walpole

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