am i complaining? absolutely not.

here i am watching this pain in the lower back. what a great opportunity to cultivate witness consciousness. i take care of it. make no mistake. i am not pollyannish about it. yet, i am not the pain. i am pure consciousness. my torah study buddy says, how are you doing, suk wah? i say, i'm striving to keep my head above water. and i burst into laughter. he says, doesn't sound like you are complaining. i say, absolutely not, i am alive, hwubby's healing is on the way, the things that matter are in place and there's torah study tomorrow. i am happy.

hand-wrapped dumplings

there i am doing stretches to ease the discomforts in the lower back while waiting for my hair cut when all of a sudden i smell some spectacular noodle aroma. i look up and see an asian guy pouring some dark brown sauce into a container of noodle. i say, that smells really good. a beaming smile shines through what until now is a solemn face. he says, it's from that place down the street. i say, is it korean? he says, yeah. i say, where? he says, that little mall. i right away know where he means. i have passed by that spot many times, but never thought of going in. so after our haircuts i wheelchair hwubby all the way, making our way through the uneven pavement. the early afternoon sun is warm and nice. the first thing that catches my eye once we walk through the threshold is something i haven't seen in years, probably the first since i have been in america. a guy sitting at an empty table wrapping dumplings. i order a plate of those, poached. they are as good as can be. light, fresh, well seasoned. the kind that a big dude from northeast china can down two hundred in one sitting. one bite and you don't want to have frozen dumplings ever again. they are dead. this is alive.

we almost can't make it

should have listened to that inner voice. case in point. no sooner than i begin to lift the wheelchair in preparation of taking hwubby to a haircut i feel a little something in the lower back. i go ahead with lifting the wheelchair out of the door and carry it through the front porch and walkway navigating the seven and two steps on a slope and place the wheelchair on the sidewalk. at that point i feel discomforts in the lower back. i can't tell whether it's pain or because it's the usual tightness in the mornings. i have never had back problem before. and so i get on with it while being careful about my postures. between the wheelchair, walker and cane a walk to the hair cut place that normally would take a few minutes end up...forty-five minutes. every move is super slow. never before are hwubby and i so keenly aware of the unevenness in the pavement. all in all, it takes half a day to get our hair cut. and my back is officially hurting. there are moments when i see the thought, i don't know if we are going to make it to the haircut. and now i must listen to this inner message. take care of it before it gets worse.

off to the chiropractor we go tomorrow.

i don't meditate and torah study to gain benefits and yet...

i don't go to torah study because i want to get benefits in anyway from anybody. i simply love the sweetness of torah. i don't do spiritual study groups regularly because i want somebody to do something for me. i just enjoy the holy company of fellow yogis who love immersing in the lights of the scriptures. i couldn't have schemed or engineered or fantasized the scope and breadth of good fortunes that have been falling into my lap one after another at super-duper speed.

first case in point. i'm in bellevue trauma ward after a sleepless night. i'm allowed to stay there twenty-four hours, but not to sleep. i put together two chairs, doze off, feel someone tapping my shoulder. it's the night nurse whispering, my supervisor says you can't sleep here. the chinese in me who is scared of authority jolts me up. i'm in that enforced state of sleeplessness for goodness how long when someone says, are you suk wah? i say, yes. the person says, there's a call for you at the nurse station. my heart jumps and skips. i blankly say into the phone, hull-ooo? a guy's voice says from the other end of the line, suk wah, this is so-and-so. my mind stays blank. i could not recognize this name. after an awkward pause, he begins to speak. i cannot make any meaning out of the words until these two. torah study. suddenly i remember like seeing the sun popping above the horizon. yes. i know who he is. he sometimes goes to torah study in the rabbi's house. we rarely speak to each other except greeting each other shabbat shalom. i blurt out, yes, yes, ben-ji. this is the name i know him by. he goes straight to the point. suk wah, i know you need a place to stay, you can stay in my apartment. just like that. no questions asked. no conditions. a couple of weeks later i find out what transpires. judy, the point contact person in the shul, emails the entire shul population about my need to find a place to stay in the city. ben-ji's boyfriend, steve, gets it while in an airport somewhere in the world. he knows this apartment fits my needs. the trick is there is another person staying there but about to leave. so there's only a tiny window of time to get me the key to the apartment. meanwhile judy, under my strict instruction, would not give out my cell to anyone. so steve, whom i sometimes like to joke around with, says, call bellevue. as it turns out, i have a two bedroom garden level apartment all to myself. i can have a meditation room. i can chant facing a snow-covered garden. i can take a bus from around the corner and get off at the entrance to bellevue. to top it off, it's a beautifully done place. elegantly simple. chic with a lot of character.

second case in point. at the last minute i need a ride on a monday afternoon to drop off an envelope to the lawyer in new york. the first name that pops up is claire. she is my spiritual study buddy. i know she is off on mondays because we have to periodically adjust our weekly study schedule. i call her. she just comes. again. no question asked.

my guru says, again and again, to the effect, get the relationship with your inner self right and everything will be all right. well, it's more than all right. it's infinitely more spectacular than i could have imagined. but then, all this and all this are not why i meditate, chant and study and do the practices. it's because i love it. i can't stop doing them.

egypt. goat leg soup. bagels

on one hand it seems like i went through one tornado after another in just moments. on another hand it feels like i'v been in a long and tumultuous dream. in the reality of time and space it's been three weeks. i received a call, flew across the country, spent a week in a trauma ward, sat in the back of an air ambulance which took me back to california, then two weeks back and forth between oakland and vallejo. finally i take a glance around me. a heartbreaking tragedy in arizona. a youth revolt in tunisia toppled the regime. now egypt is going through fire and brimstones on a scale not seen in decades. what am i doing in the meantime? cooking goat leg soup for hwubby. he's lying upstairs in a hospital bed. a wheelchair is in the hallway which is piled with medical supplies, walker, cane, chux and so on. a few bags of bagels on the kitchen counter. why are there so many bagels? because every time someone asks hwubby, what can i bring you? nine times out of ten he says, lox and bagel. and ten times out of ten visitors bring a few extra bagels. so now i have to figure out how to use them. this morning in meditation it comes to me. toast it really good and jam it. so i do. i put it under the broiler. it's so browned that it's actually black and i have to scrape and scrape. but, i have to say, it tastes really good with a nice marmalade spread.

i haven't even mentioned that i am back to meditating in my meditation closet. i've been meditating in a garden level apartment in chelsea, facing a magical snow scene; in a deluxe room with a beautiful puja in vallejo. they are all fantastic. yet it's so nice to be home.

sweet lemon. kaiser

this is a big shout out to kaiser. two weeks hwubby ago hwubby was gurneyed into the vallejo rehab center straight from an air ambulance that flew him in from bellevue hospital, new york city. poor guy is all messed up, severely injured. the taxi slammed into his right side. so the clavicle is broken. a bunch of broken ribs, lung bruises, liver lacerations, pelvic fractures, and a dislocated left pinkie. fast forward. one week in bellebue, mostly in trauma ward. intense pains and spasms. ten on a scale of one to ten. then two weeks in acute inpatient rehab. as of yesterday he can walk on a cane. he says, today i can yawn. really. when he was in bellevue a tiny burp triggers excruciating pains. they can put him in casts because those bones need to move. indeed. how can you breathe if your ribs can't move. anyway, he says, i am learning to do everything all over again, turn over to the left side, sitting up in bed, move my legs across the bed, get myself in and out of bed, tie shoelaces, go to the bathroom. really, it's a major miracle that he can wipe his lovely butt all by himself. he says, i am living in such gratitude, with every little move i make i feel like i am opening a book that has been closed for a long time.

such is the power of the force of healing and transformation.

on fridays there's a splendid farmers market in front of kaiser. a pakistan farmer insists i try a slice of what looks like lemon. i do a double take, make a face, shake my head. he really insists with a wise smile and assures me, it's sweet. i take a leap of faith. and my o my. it's a sweet lemon. a sweetness is is delicate, exquisite, some taste i have never had or imagined before.

against the background of this vibrant bounty i see an army of red-jacketed youths working hard to valet-park visitors to kaiser. all of a sudden i realize this complimentary service is not just to show off how de-luxe this facility this. this is an act of compassion. i see a woman driving an elderly man to the facility. now she can focus on her family. she doesn't not have to worry about parking the car or navigate the distance between the parking lot and the hospital.

i am not saying kaiser is perfect. i have my issues with them. how about the premiums escalating at least twenty percent every year? but this rehab facility and my own experience shine a whole new, bright light on my perception of this institution.

ready to go home

so far hwubby's roomates in rehab have been quiet people. no tv, that sort of thing. yesterday afternoon a new person shows up. a tv person. he talks, eats (nurse feeds him) and tv loud at the same time. is he watching it? i don't know. i do know this. this is a sign that it's time for hwubby to come home. he's ready. i am ready.

i take home bags of freshly cut produce from karun's garden. celery leaves - vital for chicken soup flavor - , carrots, new potatoes, rainbow chard, dinosaur kale, and loads of thyme and parsley - just the right stuff to flavor up my hummus.

now i feel really, really ready.