Things my father never taught me.

“You always go around things. Me, I go straight at them.”

It’s hard to remember if it was a short lesson or a trigger moment waiting for some filial bonding, but I never bothered to respond.
I have never bothered to respond.
Some thoughts are left best unprocessed like those little, raw, expressions that can make you laugh or make you cry.
Blank.

Looking at myself in the mirror this morning was, as usual, not a rewarding sight.
New hairs had overnight found their way into unwelcome sites as their peers above looked down wondering what their growth secret was. Yet the promise of a clean shave gave new hope for at least being cosmetically prepared for the new day.
Somehow it had all become a polished routine, mastered over time under the challenge of time constraints and blunt razors. Long and short strokes mixed with a flurry of razor action, brushing teeth without the sweet aftertaste.

And then it hit me,
how many times had I cut myself learning to shave?
How many questions did I ask the experts on the mater of shaving near or around pimples?
Is it better to lather up with hot or cold water?
How many times had my own pride stopped me from asking what the blunt man had to offer me?
Now I’m an expert?

Dreamtime;
daytime filter,
onetime traveller,
mirror of your savannah

turned into a haver,
not a giver
by clowns like these ...



http://youtube.com/watch?v=EBwRE4bo30o

I Ching, the oldest written source of Chinese philosophy, predates Taoism and Confucianism by, oh.... about 600 years.

Loosely translated and summarised, it's an account of how life forms change - subject to the unchanging laws of nature,

specifically, the pentagramatic forces of;

~ FIRE (summer) luxurious growth and maturity of power, red

~ EARTH (late summer) abundance and decrease in power, yellow

~ METAL (autumn) tranquility of conduct and balance of power, white

~ WATER (winter) closing and storing, with an emphasis on power, blue

~ WOOD (spring) beginning & growth, rebirth of power, green

Now, this all sounds quite obvious but it's just the start of a complex physio/psychological profile that the I Ching founders developed in order to explain different personality types

ie. the effect of nature on our birth as human beings (read astrological signs et al.)

... and the balance of these natural forces;

how we become imbalanced by personality changes throughout our lives

and how restoration of the five natural elements can help us return to the perfection of our newly created life-form.

What really intrigues me...

having been a psych undergraduate,

with a sister who prescribes and creates herbal therapy

and having personally pursued varying forms of oriental, medicinal knowledge during my 4 years in South Korea

... is the well defined map of direct links between these 5 elements and internal, human organs.

For the benefit of my own knowledge, I will examine each of these elements in detail in future postings + take an in-depth look at the complementary arts of reiki, accupunture and shiatsu massage, whilst expounding the virtues of oriental exercise arts such as tai chi and hap-ki-do.

as the buddhists say "be compassionate to all beings and seek your own true enlightenment"

The gift
November 7 was a typically confusing day on highway 1
and
if I had known then what I know now,
Kaohsiung (aka. the second largest toilet-stop disguised as a city in Taiwan) would have been given a wide steer on the mighty, 24 speed, Giant.
Unfortunately, the bike understood as much about local roadsignese as I did- absolutely nothing.
A brief break in the traffic and time stopped.
Lazy beads of sweat rolled off bare patches of burnt skin onto the road, the bike, the map, carelessly splattering themselves like lemmings against whatever gravity decided was its easiest target.
Upstairs, my eyes were stinging behind constantly fogged sunglasses and I felt the urge to wipe my brain from the outside with the back of my hand.
Nothing but dulled senses and nagging aches!
Then, an alarm bell rang and it began all over again. A new swarm of scooter-guided shoppers and workers and students rocketed past. Big, toxic bearing, 16 wheelers rumbled from their midst as they worked up enough terminal speed to reunite with the scooters at the next set of lights. A lone kiwi set off once more in their trail of fumes and dust, picking the path of least resistance on two narrow wheels.
"I'm going to ride this damned, white torpedo right through this mess."
Into the haze, without any discernable view of the outside world, where tall, grey fingered buildings reached high into the murk.
At ground zero there was no main arterial to follow, only a maze of palm lines that vaguely promised a release from the city's tight, sweating fist.
After an hour of frustration, the byways suddenly melted into a relief of low-rise buildings that revealed colours beyond cement, rust and aged white.
Release, relax and the thought that maybe there was a real toilet somewhere nearby.
Hospital and bike shop became two more appropriate points of immediate interest, however.
With the skill and care of a drunken judge, an elderly gentleman ran me over from a standing start- lock, stock and fuming temper. One minute, standing at a red light, bike straddled between my weary legs, and the next beneath a motor vehicle, merging slowly into the tide of outgoing traffic.
Reaction, "STOP", smack the underbelly of this beast as hard as possible, and pray if there was time.
Yes, God, there was. The beast had ground to a scraping halt, with me as its brake.
"AJOSSI, PABU issoyo?" was the best Korean insult that I could muster.
"Are YOU okay?" was a slightly more intelligible recourse after I remembered where I was.
Inside the crazy man's, mobile lair there was an air of chaos.
A tailormade cigarette hung loosely from his white, chattering lips and a small dog barked its head off at me from the safety of his lap. His window slid down an inch or two, stale smoke escaped into the open air and two snakey fingers shook a crisp 1000 dollar note at me wrapped around the words "A gift."
I looked down at my bleeding legs, the bent Giant, two or three retiscent bystanders . . .
time to move on,
take the money
and limp off.