we are all gold

i'm all ready to meditate. the posture is ready. the intention is high. the breath flow is steady and easy. a thought comes. what do i meditate on today? in super rapid succession a bunch of possibilities shoot through the dark, velvety awareness like fireworks of meteors. i love all of them. i can easily meditate on any of them. i am just about to pick and choose when somehow something unexpected catches my inner eye. shema israel. i'm pleasantly surprised. there's a lovely, lyrical melody that goes with this central jewish prayer. spontaneously it is imbuing my hearing like sunset colors dyeing the cosmos.

my rabbi says, in his reading of torah, israel, besides meaning someone who wrestles with god, also indicates connecting with god, going straight to god. where do i find god? how about starting with...within. shema. hear. not just hearing with the outer ears. pay attention. get it in the guts. hear it from the heart. i listen to the song of the breath as it blossoms into an unbroken chanting of the prayer. the longing that is embedded in the melody reveals itself. builds and builds.

shema israel. adonai eloheinu. adonai echad.

the one who yearns to connect with god, get this. god is all the forces and powers in the universe. god is one.

in this way i have a fantastic, satisfying meditation. is it indian? yes. is it jewish? yes. the self is the same in all. multitudes leave mitzrayim, the narrow land, narrow consciousness. jews. egyptians. it's the same self after all. walk into a goldsmith's shop. many forms, shapes and sizes. i like this one, not that one. this one looks ugly. that one looks pleasing to the eye. yet, in essence, they are all gold. in essence, we are all gold.

they are all for one purpose

just when i am commending myself profusely for memorizing the poem breakthrough so very well all this week, boom, i discover i have missed out a whole verse. only three lines. but, boy, do they pack  punches.

everything that happened
begot the self-denial
which led to the knowledge of the Self.

what is self-denial? this much i know. whatever it is, it leads me to knowing my own true nature. the key, then, is understanding. whatever happens and doesn't happen, whatever i have to do and say no to, they are all for one purpose, exploring who i am, what i am here for. otherwise i will be sucked into the vortex of drama. what then will happen? check this out.

if the doorframe is low
then bend your head and walk through it.
if the sword is brandished before you,
lower your head; otherwise misfortune will result.

for suk wah it is huge progress

going places is fun. being with kind and wonderful people is a delight. having said that i have to admit that there's nothing like back on my own meditation mat and meditate away. bar none. i am saying this from my own experience. i was in a safari back when most of the world didn't know what this word was. unless they've read hemmingway. by the way, it is truly an astonishing discovery to see elephant running in the wild. i did not know they could run this fast. and speaking of delight. that's how i feel when i wake up in the room high up on a tree and see this sweet giraffe face passing by the window. nonetheless the sweetness passing through me in gentle waves deep in meditation is beyond comparison. as i revel in the elegance of my upright and steady posture more than an hour into sitting i recall vividly the elegance of the hippopotamus swimming like a masterful ballerina in the depths of lake.

so do i want to go to a safari again? i don't know. this much i know for sure about my life now. i need quite a bit of equipment to support my posture. a suitcase of them. i have the tahoe trips to prove it. so when a trip involves air travel i have to go into alternate modes of meditation. meaning i have to sit in a chair, lie horizontal on a hotel bed, or whatever bed i happen to be in.

also because of evening activities i have to get up later and meditate less than i do at home. so with this observation i am happy to congratulate myself. suk wah, your discrimination and willpower have definitely improved. your capability to make choices that are for long term benefit has come a long way. i am serious. this involves hard and difficult decision. like when i am offered a fantastic cheese at dinner i have to say no. okay, i admit i cannot say no outright. but i don't munch on the cheese like a squirrel. i only have a couple of bites. and that, for suk wah, is huge progress.

leave it to the chinese girl to do it.

what about lincoln memorial? absolutely moving. his eyes gaze into the eternal present moment. the view of white house from jefferson's feet is spectacular. the tourmobile narrator says, today's the president's birthday. so i let my voice glide across tidal basin as i wish him a happy birthday. having said all that i have to say my top fave d c monument is the one for vietnam war.

really. leave it to a chinese girl to do it.

just two triangular, walls of black marble joined along the upright edge. yet as i walk along the pebbled path that takes me from the lowest point towards the highest i realize i am going below ground and soaring into the sky both at once. suddenly i notice the polished black marble become a mirror. it reflects beautifully the essentials of this physical universe. sky. cloud. trees. grass. birds. men and women and children. i feel the cool drizzle gently tapping the back of neck. in that moment i realize i am within a memorial whose limit is the sky. amidst all this grandeur are the names of men and women who sacrificed their lives.

miss maya lin did not use marble in the roman way or greek way. through a simple vision she created with meticulous attention a place where i experience respect from my heart for all those who give up the ultimate that anyone can offer for something that is bigger than their individual selves. the reflections constantly shift. but the oneness that is the same in everyone and everything stay untouched and pure. standing at the corner i look up to the top of the walls. part of my gaze is irresistibly drawn toward the clear sky. it is no different from the sky in the black mirror. the selves of all those whose names are engraved are no different than mine. the sky above me and that coming through the black mirror are not separate. one sky.

i just don't see them.

an american friend in d c says, i know that dim sum place, i've been there, i don't like it. i say, did you have tofu flower? she says, no. i say, did you have waterchestnut cake? again, no. what about taro dumpling? no. my friend says, i don't see them, they were not there. i say, dear american friend, you can take my word the bank, they are there, you just don't know what they are. true. take tofu flower. all one can see on the dim sum cart are two aluminum vats, a pile of bowls and spoons. no label. why they don't provide any label for the sake of american friends? because they are sold out just from the chinese customers. at one point hwubby asks a waiter, do you know how many people line up every day? he says, too many.

at another point cindy, who finds out about this place, points to something on a cart that is passing by and asks stuart, the chinese guy who tells cindy about this place, what is that? stuart casts a quick glance and says, you can order whatever you want. so cindy does. a plate of two little tarts. by the way, i notice stuart kind of half covers his eyes with a hand. briefly. after having half of one cindy asks me, suk wah, what is this? i take a good look at it and decide to be honest. i say, it's not dim sum as i know it, they make this up for the americans. stuart says with a straight poker face, never saw this before. hwubby says to cindy, when stuart tells you to order whatever you want it's the code for you to say 'no, you order.' cindy chuckles. she has a good sense of humor.

on one hand i know what's in the aluminum vat and i know what waterchestnut cake looks like.  on another hand i come out of meditation often thinking i don't have any experiences when in fact i have plenty. i just don't see them. just as my american friend needs to go dim sum with someone who knows about it i have to meditate with the guidance of a great teacher. then i know i am having a great connection with my own self when i am sitting quietly with the sound and movement of the breath.

all that marble i cannot eat.

my first time ever in d c. a friend asks, what do you think? i say, do you want the chinese perspective? or some other? short pause. she says, okay, the chinese perspective. i say, all that marble i cannot eat. but i definitely will come back. d c has some of the best dim sum i have had in america. seriously. hwubby says, seriously. we want to take the person who has so generously and kindly given us accommodation to a meal. actually turns out we have the whole house to ourselves. anyway hwubby says to this person, can you find out a nice place to go dim sum or a good chinese restaurant. honestly i don't have any expectation. but i know something good is coming when our friend says, i have found a place to dim sum, my friend says it's as good as hong kong and we have to be there no later than ten thirty to line up. hwubby and i arrive a couple of minutes after. what do we see? already a line of about fifteen people outside this unassuming place in a small shopping center. by the time it opens at eleven the line is already round the corner.

however the proof is in the dim sum. tofu flower. texture is delicate as prime rose petals, smooth as boiled egg white, creamy as custard, light as cloud. our american friend takes one spoonful. her eyes pops wide. she says, i can't believe it, i have never tasted anything like this. such quality is only possible because it is fresh. tofu flower has no shelf life. it is only good for a few hours. then it begins to taste grainy. i could have downed several bowls if i didn't have to save room for others.

waterchestnut cake. all that jello texture comes from a natural ingredient. some sort of grass. it gels at room temperature. chinese don't need fridge to make jello:) waterchestnut is one of my fave summer veggie. refreshing taste, crunchy, cooling.

taro dumpling. again, my american friend says, i have never had anything so good. it looks like a small bird nest. take a bite into it. the taro threads are deep fried to perfection. light, airy. not oily whatsoever.

cuttlefish. thinly sliced. al dente. very tasty. but the real wonder is the bed of pickled turnip, cucumber underneath. they are perfectly balanced in sweet and sour. and, again, they are fresh.  there is a world of difference if it's stale pickle. they give me headache. literally immediately.

at one point, the american friend sitting next to me says, suk wah, when are you going to stop eating, aren't you full yet? i say, i will, at some point.

after such spectacular dim sum i head straight to national gallery to spend time with my fave pics. life in d c is divine.

bro pang only speaks when necessary.

a friend, an american to be exact, asks hwubby, why this chinese treatment, the doctors are not working? hwubby, as always in his polite and clear mode, says, the doctors do what they do, they say the bones are healing. it takes ten to twelve weeks in my case. they show me the x rays, where the fractures are, or used to be and they point out to me where the healing is happening. can i walk? yes, with help of a cane and occasional walker. but i don't feel anything on the right side. weak and stiff. i sit for a few minutes and i feel very, very uncomfortable. then pain comes in. with bro pang, after the first treatment i can honestly say i can feel i have a right side. there are mornings when i kind of think i don't know how i can get this adhesive off. but i do. because it's so worth it.

speaking of 'so worth it' hwubby corrrects something i posted yesterday. he says, i was in the apple store when i saw these dark brown patties falling out of my pants. hey, that's even more cool than in the bus, right. i mean, i am laughing to the floor. i can only imagine those super cool nerds so focusing on what they are doing that they don't see those poop patties dropping all over around them. by the way, i don't think they look like poop. really. i found some on the bed and floor when i arrived. i remember thinking to myself, why does hwubby eat ginger snaps in the bed and these look like the wheat-free, gluten free ones that i made with molasses.

i digress. so, back to hwubby feeling his right side. this makes total sense. two thousand tons of speeding steel hitting flesh and bone of course creates tsunami waves of destruction in blood and chi flow. it's like the otherwise smooth river is blocked by boulders, pebbles and rocks and mangled piles of branches and leaves. over the course of time, the debris rot, fresh water turn stale and the rest of it. of course the doctors have done a great job. but what bro pang does is restoring blood and chi flow. and what he accomplishes i nothing less than magical. magic that he produces not by waving a wand or casting a spell but solid experiences over forty years founded on his special gifts, a quest for learning, dedication to the art and craft of this ancient discipline. my cousin, who is pang's in-law, says, pang never makes social calls, or just calls to say hello that sort of thing but he calls once his daughter told him that ben was hit by a car. what does he say? all he says is this is serious, ben must come for not just one or two days but longer, and also, is he coughing? at one point, over dim sum i ask pang, why coughing? he says, have to adjust the herbs if he cough. coughing makes pain in broken ribs. indeed, according to the orthopedic surgeon rib pain is the worst because every breath triggers excruciating pain. what's my point here? my point is pang is attentive to details and cares about the patient. he only speaks when it is necessary. what a refreshing difference. what a great teaching for me to keep in mind. what great good fortune we have to be in-lawed to him.