Plane Crash

Why death, skipped him?  He’d, wondered…translated…

Chih-Ming sat by his uncle’s sickbed, it seemed, he’d, passed out, again, he’d stayed by the sickbed for twenty-eight hours now.  A short while ago, his uncle woke, at the age of almost eighty, he was still, sharp, he’d looked over at Chih-Ming, nodded, with a vacant expression, then, searched his hospital room, Chih-Ming knew, he was, looking for his own son, his cousin.  At this time, the door to the room swung open, and in came a couple of about fifty years of age, Chih-Ming called out, “Cousin, Cousin”.  The man nodded like crazy toward Chih-Ming, ran toward the bed, called out, “Dad!”, his uncle opened up his eyes, seeing his son, there was, that sense of settlement, that sense of comfort, that overcame him now.  The son grabbed his father’s hand in both of his.

At this moment, Chih-Ming felt, a bit, displeased, for forty years, his uncle had, played favorites like this.  Since at age eleven when his own parents died in a car crash, he’d been, adopted by his aunt, and his uncle had been, aloof toward him.  This time, he’d, given up the opportunity to travel abroad, because early yesterday morn, his cousin phoned from the U.S., told him that his uncle had a stroke and was, hospitalized, that he was, in critical condition, and asked Chih-Ming to help with the procedures of checking his father in, to take care of him.  He’d told him he’d already booked a flight back home, but it was, the Halloween holidays, and, it will take him over thirty hours before he arrives in Taipei.

Suddenly, Chih-Ming realized, that his cousin and his wife had, arrived, eight hours early, must be that he’d, somehow, gotten on an earlier flight.  But why didn’t he text him?  If he’d known, that his cousin was going to make it back in time, then, he and his wife would’ve, managed to catch the flight to Busan today at eight that morn, besides, his uncle is now, stabilized.  He and his wife, Li-Ru had, planned this trip to Korea for a very long time, it’s the very first time in five years, they were able to, travel abroad.  Their youngest entered into the university, the Taipei University.  The two of them found vacation time saved, thy could travel to Korea for seven days.  They’d planned to visit the temple in Gyeongju-si, the tourist village, the burials, they were supposed to hike up the mountain there, and go deep into the caves.  Why, had his uncle selected to have his stroke, a day before they were, supposed to go?

Chih-Ming switched his shift with his cousin, and headed over to a fast food restaurant for lunch.  His phone rang, it was Li-Ru, “Ming, it was, so very, scary, the flight we were supposed to have been on, had gone off the radar!”

“What happened?”

“It’s so scary, the flight didn’t get to Pusan, it’d, vanished from the radars, and, chances are, it won’t be found…………”

Chih-Ming became, stunned, he saw the T.V. in the fast food place broadcasting the news, “This flight had exploded in the oceans, four hundred kilometers away from Naha…………crew members of a fishing boat saw it happened………”

The explosion went off in his head, he was so thrilled his jaw dropped.  Explosion in mid-air!  Then, everybody onboard had, died!  Had him and Li-Ru alighted the flight, they’d, both been, dead.  They were, so blessed, perhaps, they were the only two survivors of this flight!  A ton of thoughts passed through his mind, why did Death skip him?

He’d, canceled his trip because of his uncle’s stroke.  During his younger years, his uncle who worked for the railroad systems had been, too harsh, too tough on him.  Other than providing for his stay and food, he’d never, given him anything else, his school fees, sneakers, clothes, and allowances, were all from his uncle.  And, he’d run short on money a lot, his uncle bought a Japanese made watch for his cousin, which he’d, waited for his aunt, to work for six months as a stores clerk at a shopping mall to buy for him.  Early yesterday morn as his cousin begged him to go to the hospital, he was in doubt, sitting on his bed, his wife, Li-Ru told him, “When your aunt was still here, your uncle had been kind to her.  Do it for that, let’s, delay our trip to Korea then!”, he’d carried his grudge, to care for his uncle, it wasn’t even, anything kind that’s, stemmed from his own heart at all.

Li-Ru told, that if you planted the good seeds, you shall, reap the better fruits.  She had always taken the time, away from caring for him and his son, to help with the funeral processions of the deceased, to recite the Buddhist chants to help the deceased enter into a better afterlife.  For over twenty years, she’d, gone to over two hundred funerals to participate, supposedly, she’d, set two hundred souls’ minds to ease?  Could this be what made them escaped from death?  Was it because of his wife’s good deeds, it’d, helped saved him too?  It seemed, he will become, a Buddhist, and a vegan too then!

His cell phone rang, it was his coworker from school, Chen, the assistant professor, he’s voice was so thrilled, “Dean, you’re okay!  Thank god!  I saw that the flight crashed on T.V., I knew you were scheduled to go to Pusan today, and I hoped, that there’s, that million in one chance, that you and your wife didn’t alight the flight!”

“Yes, we didn’t get on the flight, it’s my uncle, he’d been, hospitalized, we’d, stayed to care for him.”

“It’s your kindness that’s, saved your lives!  We can’t be without you as the dean.  In this past year, you were, very kind and patient in showing me the ropes.  I was so afraid, I never, got to say a proper thank you to you.”

Then came the calls from almost everyone else he knew, they all told, that it was God who’d, blessed him from getting on the flight, and how they all, appreciated his kindness, and his loving them, caring for them.  It seemed, that he’d done, some things right, was it those things he’d done right, that spared his life?  He’d not taken a bite out of the beef noodle he’d ordered yet.

The T.V. showed the office of that airline, flooded with the families of the passengers, there were those who were crying, looking very sorrowful.  And yet, on his side, there were his loved ones, his friends, coworkers, who were, really glad that he’d not gotten on the flight.  But, there must’ve been those on the flight who’d, done more good deeds than he ever had, so, why did they die?  This was, so unfair for them.  He’d recalled, what Li-Ru said of shared karma.  Was it because, that they’d done something bad in a past life together, that they’d, died together this life?  He couldn’t figure out, why he’d, survived, kept searching for the reasons, what, had he done that was, so good?  Suddenly, he’d felt, so tiny, he, should be the one he was, thankful for.

And so, this, is the thing about affinity and karma, because the man’s uncle treated him unkind, and he’d still followed his uncle’s rules, took care of him, like he was, supposed to, he’d done it, with the mindset of how much his aunt loved him, treated him like he was her own, and so, perhaps, this had, rubbed off on his life, which was probably why he didn’t get on that flight, because his uncle was in critical condition, and that’s, saved his life!


The Springtime for a Mockingbird

How this tiny creature, reminded the writer/photographer of herself, translated…

I’d, bumped into a nesting mockingbird, she’d, searched all over for the materials, hopped around.  The small beak was her only tool, the leaves, the twigs, she’d carried them, one by one, made many trips to and fro, her eyes, very focused.  Don’t know how far her nesting had gotten?  I’d, imagined how she’d worked hard, building up her residence, like the construction sites, and I’d, imagined it to be a place, containing all the dreams.

the photo that the writer took, from…

At this moment, I sat, at my desk, keying these words, I’d, imagined how this article would look when it’s, finished too, that is, also, what dreams looked like.

And so, we’re all, pursuing our dreams from a day to day basis, like the mockingbird, or this writer/photographer is doing, and, that, is how we make our lives matter!

Allowing the Moonlight on the Seas, to Soothe Our Fatigue

How this woman found that sense of peace she’d longed for, without, going anywhere physically, translated…

Since Strong was born, our lives became, like full glasses of water, with the smallest bumps, our emotions, ran haywire, spilled out, getting all over each other, making us both, defeated.

We’d not only needed to take Strong to exercise regularly, games, walks, massages, meals, baths, sleeping with him, we’d also needed to, keep our small bookshop tidy and clean, to set up the events in and out of the shop, to deal with the returned orders, make the drinks, act as ushers for our guests, to prepare for our classes, the lectures, along with cleaning up the beaches, and other duties that we had, and, we’d had to wait until nine or ten at night, after we’d, put Strong down for bed, can we finally breathe for ourselves, to read or to watch television for an hour, to chat with each other, then, we’d, needed to, sort through the e-mails, the maintain our websites until around one in the morn, are we able to, finally, get to bed, and sometimes, when we get too busy, the two of us, didn’t even share a meaningful conversation.

And, this sort of a busyness of scheduling, it’s easy, to miscommunicate. We’d, often wear that soured expression with each other, take a bad tone of voice when we spoke to one another, getting loud, or, started, nagging. When this happened, we’d, both fallen silent, and get through to one another using the internet, to let the emotions, stay for a bit, around our fingertips, so, the words we’d, lashed out at each other, won’t be so harsh.

If the weather’s all right, I would push Strong in his stroller home by foot, that way, I got to look around the streets, to see the stars up in the skies, and, after I’d gone home, put Strong to bed, I could take a very slow bath, and massage my aching muscles, thinking about, whether or not, I should, keep giving Daddy Strong the silent treatment, or to, break the ice.

Recently, because both our workloads were, increased, Strong’s energy level increased, we’d, gotten into more and bigger conflicts with each other, on adjusting the workload, we’d gotten, easily angered with each other. This day, after we fought, I’d, needed to, take an even slower pace, to walk myself home, lifting my head, saw the round moon, and, it’d, reminded of the book by Ryoji Arai, “The Moon is Full Tonight”.

I’d recalled how whatever he drew, adults, children, or animals, they’re all, watched over by the full moon at night, and, the moonlight made the sky looked like the oceans, cause the waves, in every set of eyes that lifted upward to look, and, it’d, massaged every single life that’s, ended, another hard day’s work, allowing the fatigue mind to rest, the imaginations, run wild. I wanted to be like that whale in the book too, take Strong out on the waves in the moonlight!

I’d also, recalled how when we weren’t so busy, whenever Daddy Strong or I discovered a full moon, whether or not we’re, next to each other, we’d, felt, compelled, to tell it to each other: lifting our heads, we see, the same moon. Remembering how we’d, once driven to the seaside, to see the moon shine on the water.

The moon’s so full tonight, I’m not here, I’m, drifting, floating, on the shiny seas.

And so, this, is this woman’s way of finding her peace, she’d, needed that place she can go, to retreat, and, she’s able to, find it, that sense of calm she’d, desperately needed, in her own mind…

Memories, Four Poems

The philosophies of this earthly life, translated…


  1. Memories are Like Moss

The Mountains Used the Bird Calls to Name it

My Time Became a Spore

Asleep, Deep Inside

The Evening Fogs Wrapped the Roses in Flames

The Drizzles Fell Endlessly

You are, My Stay

a Small Pathway

in that Shoreside without the Lights

This, is how much, you’d, relied on that certain someone, to keep you steady, to have that place where your hearts can go, to find that safe place in the world…


The Memories are Like the Running Streams

Washing at the Rocks in the Midst

I’m that Foam that Turned Repeatedly

Adding to the Fishes that Swam in the Streams

The Night, in the Sounds of the Streams

Journey in Secret on My Own

Passed Through that Wild Forest

Becoming the Clouds Up in the Mountains

You are, the Starry Night Skies of the Open Plains

with the Eyes, Hidden

The Plains Became the Illuminated Bosoms

Brought the Air of You in the Dawn

And so, waiting for someone, to return, is what this felt like, and, everything is still, very much alive in your memories, the love you and that someone special had, shared from before, it’s, still, right there, inside your heart and your mind!


The Memories Like the Sand

Filled with the Scars of Autumn

Your Bones, Turned into Smaller Hills

Your Skins, Became the Rivers

Leading the Way for the Tears

Spread Out the Wrinkles of Time

The Wind Blew Through a Decade

and Another

Your Bones Like the Hills

Skin, Like the Rivers

Memories, Like the Sands

Even as the Wind Stopped, the Needles from the Pines Still, Fell All Over the Places

And so, no matter what, memories will be lost, there’s, just NO way, to stop the progressions of time, and, as we are all older, things are, lost, the memories, slowly, gone by the day…


The Memories are, Like the Gates, into the Mountains

Swaying Between, the First, the Second, and the Third Doors

Looking into the Greens

Finding that Monastery

The Memories are like the Dojos

After the Morning Chants, come the Noon Chants, then the Evening Chants

After the Chants, the Repentance

Came the Chimes from the Bell

The Wind, the Rain Raged on, Turning the World Dark

The World Became, an Endless Wetland

Something, Hidden Deep, into the Waters

Something, Buried, Deep, in the Earth

And so, this, is where we all end up, as dusts and dirt, and, the memories we have of this world that we’d, carried with us up until we pass away, will all be buried, with our bodies that had, stopped working…

At Dawn, a Poem

An awakening here, translated…

Death, Belonging to Tomorrow

That Odd Man

He’d Said, of the Dawn

查看來源圖片the sun, coming up the horizon…photo from online…

The Sun Just, Loosened the Rope Tying Up the Night

Passing Through that Door

Awakened, to Ushering in the God that’s, Come for Oneself

So descriptive, isn’t it?  In these few short lines, the poet described, life and death, dawn, and dusk so very vividly…

Mr. Fried Shrimp Seals on Hide-and-Seek

Stepping out of one’s own comfort zones, you might discover something about yourselves, translated…

From when I was younger, I’d loved playing hide-and-seek, I’d especially enjoyed hiding in that spot but not get found by those who’d passed me by, with that mixture of sense of achievement of not being caught, and with the sense of lost, of not being found. The hiding place for me was, the weirder, the better.

White is my protective color, and so, I’d hidden in cream and butter the most, but because I got so good at hiding, every time I’d played the games, I’d needed to, wait a very long time to get found, and so, I’d stopped, hiding out in the pile of butter.

like this???  查看來源圖片image from online…

Recently, because I wore my knitted orange striped socks, I was mistaken for fried shrimp, and started getting out of the comfort zone of white, and attempted to mask myself as a burger with fried shrimp.

At first, that was quite exciting, after all, it was, a semi-open hiding space, and it’d worked out quite well too, half of the people just thought that I was drizzled in white sauce, which allowed me a better angle, to observe everybody’s expressions, so very interesting.

I blame myself for getting comfortable, hiding in white from before.

This is on the importance of stepping out of our comfort zones, yeah, it would feel a bit dangerous, sure, but, if we don’t venture out of those zones of comfort we are staying in, how the HECK can we know what sort of wonderful things await us out there?





Pour Me that Cup of Your Solitude…

Pour me that cup of your solitude, why don’t you? You KNOW you want to share that with someone, might as well be me, ‘cuz I’m the only one available, who’ll, lend you, my helping ear!

You’d, poured me that cup of your solitude, and I’d, taken a sip, and immediately, I’d, spat it back out, it’d tasted so awful, so bitter, and acidic that it’d, burned my esophagus, as it trickled down my throat.

查看來源圖片like this???  Photo from online…

Pour me that cup of your solitude, share with me, those lonely dreams of yours, and you will, still feel just as, if not more so, lonely compared to when you’d, come in…

Pour me that cup of your solitude if you will, but, don’t expect me, that I’ll, allow you, to force feed it down into my throat! I won’t take it, I don’t want your solitude, it’s something that’s, B-A-D, I’d much rather, taste that bitter cup of my own solitude, all alone, without you there.

Pour me that cup of your solitude, that, is what you want to do, to SHARE with me, your loneliness, but, I don’t want NONE of that, I don’t want YOUR solitude, I have my own, and my solitude, is WAY, WAY, W-A-Y better than yours!!!