Cobalt Green, on the Journeys of Her Life

On maturing into being, through journeying to the various places in the world, translated…

Chrome green is a green with that hint of yellow in it, withstanding great heat, bearing with the lights, something that’s used, when there’s this need for the persistent lighting. And this tramp I’d met, I’d called her, cobalt green.

The very first time I’d met Cobalt Green, we’d met out for supper nearby the publishers. She is vegetarian, ordered the spicy vegetarian fried rice, I’d ordered up the vegetable stew too. The portions were way too big, we’d not finished, and she had a lot of containers with her, and so, she’d, packed them up—including a lot of the water that we didn’t finish drinking too (the waiter thought we were a company of four, and gave us four glasses from when we sat down). Even as she’d returned to the major cities, she’d still kept “cherishing” the resources.

the peaceful state of mind this person must be experiencing, can you imagine it???  Photo from online…

She’d once traveled in India, Yunnan, Tibet and the borders of Thailand and Burma, although she’s a temporary visitor, the local family had given her the only glass of clean water for her to drink, and this became the most shocking moment in her whole journey.

Cobalt Green has a religious belief system, but she’d believed, that if we have our own faiths, then, it’d, belonged to oneself solely. I’d believed too, that the most precious kinds of beliefs surpass the religious kind. For instance, being a vegetarian is a way of respecting life, but, if the meat eaters don’t waste any of the meat products they’d consumed, then, it’s equally respectable. Especially when the vegetarians and the nonvegetarians showed respect to one another, wouldn’t that be, the core of “respect” being shown?

We have a shared similarity in character, that we were both forceful in that we hated relying on anybody else for anything. But I’d found, that in the process of her tramping, she’d slowly learned how to “reduce”, to stop constantly giving to the world. In the journeys close to the borders, she’d given her companions a lot of help, and the companions all showed their gratitude by giving some small gifts to her too. And, although those were small items, they’d all become, too meaningful to her. She’d told me, that tramping had taught people to become humbler, to stop using ones’ own views to judge the world constantly. For instance, she’d seen a lot of those who’d sponsored those in the developing nations, and visited locally, seeing how the locals were wearing a ton of accessories, then they’d made the judgments, “they’re not poor at all, they’d still had the money to buy the accessories.”, without knowing, that all those accessories were from the recycled metal scraps, and it wasn’t the same as the monetary values of the developed nations, but an alternative kind of culture and creativity.

查看來源圖片the journey of just one, photo found online…

I’d told her, a lot of start for the creations, seemed to stem from this wound inside of the creators. In the process of journeying, can it be a divide of Cobalt Green’s life, and the next stage of her life, what color will she turn? She’d replied, “on the wounds of the soul and memories, we needed to spend a lot of time, to fix up the missing parts, and it may take lifetimes to accomplish, but that eternal serenity, had always been inside our lives, never left us, it’s just we’d, forgotten them.” Maybe, Cobalt Green will become a permanent color for her life, and, the serendipitous encounters in the future, are going to be the decorations of that eternal peace she’d found.

So, this, is this woman’s view about life, and, she’d accumulated a lot of life experiences, by traveling, journeying to a ton of places, from the interactions she’d shared with people who are strangers, and life is an accumulation of our past experiences, leading up to who we currently are, and, all those experiences will help shape us into who we’re supposed to be as we age.

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The Two Ends of the Roads

Filling up your time after you retired, translated…

There’s this saying, “Study, or working out, either the body or the soul needed to head out on the roads.” I’d loved to read, walking even more. I live on Yenping N. Road Sec. 6, walking forward from my house for twenty minutes was the public library, back, was the riverside park and the weekend floral markets. And I’d gone on both ways on the weekends and the holidays too.

I’d slung that backpack around me, with my water bottle, headed out toward the library, without any hurry, the shops, the cafés, the beauty salons on the way………not long ago, a traditional style cake shop opened, the scent of the cake baking floated out of the shop into the streets. There was a hotpot shop that had a post, that if a child in the customer’s house had three-times made the perfect grades, with the exams provided, the family can receive a serving of hotpot for free, the owner’s heart was commendable, but not long thereafter, the shop closed down, and became a couture shop. Walking down this long sidewalk, looking all around at the shops, the sights, every walk of life presented itself to me, and, I’d, wandered to the front of the library. I’d gotten used to climbing six floors to the reading room, and not taken the elevators, it’s another view here. I’d found a window seat, with a book, a bottle of water, spent my afternoon in peace here, and this, is my secret spot for escaping the noises of day-to-day life.

I loved how open the library is, the serene atmosphere, so peaceful and quiet. As I got bored reading, I’d walked over to the windows, and looked down at the river under the bridge, and shifted my gaze toward the distant connected skies, to the mountains far off. And when I got tired, I’d, put my head down on the desks and napped, and when I felt like it, I’d started, secretly, observing the people in the library too. There was an elderly man who’s really focused, I would see him every time I’d come here, I’m guessing, that he’d reported to the library every single day; there was a pair of young children, who were really focused on doing their review worksheets, without being distracted by everything else around them; there was also that older man who’d fallen asleep, and started snoring too…………… as I became really into observing the goings on around me, I’d felt, relaxed more.

On the weekends, I walked toward the both ends of the streets, to go read or to see the flowers or to exercise, life became more fulfilled because of this habit, like how the roads had, extended into the distances from both ends too.

So, this, is one way to spend your free time after the retirement, you’d gotten enough exercise by walking to all these places, and, you also have the opportunity to observe the goings-on around you, becoming even more aware of yourself, and your interactions with the external environments you are in too.

What If I Want to Be a QUEEN??? The Question that ALL Princesses Have, as They Ride Off into the Sunset

Life surely was, a HELL of a LOT simpler, back in the Medieval times, when men and women just settled in, their traditional gender roles, isn’t it???

What if I want to be a QUEEN??? The question that ALL princesses have, as they ride off into the sunset, and thus, second thoughts, doubts, started taking over, in the princesses minds. What if I want to be a QUEEN? I mean, I’d never needed a man before, I’d grown up, as an independent woman now. Why would I need a man, to care for me?

daddy’s princess, all grown up…not my art…

What if, I want to be a QUEEN??? What if, I’m just, not going to be satisfied, as someone’s princess, what if, I’m, destined to become a queen, and I’m just, settling, as a princess who’s, locked up in an ivory tower, with my one and only BEST friend, my PET DRAGON, who will get slaughtered by some LOSER who made his way up my ivory tower, to ROB me of my youth, huh???

What if, I want to be a QUEEN??? And, I’m just, settling down, as a PRINCESS, who can’t help herself (but, I’m actually, ABLE-BODIED here!!!)? That’s not the life I want, at A-L-L!!!

So yeah, the argument with me continues, until, I finally realize (oh wait, I’d always known it already!!!), that I’m NOT meant to be a “princess” (just like I’d told that elderly man from back in ’08???), that I don’t need anybody to “rescue” me, I’m more of a QUEEN………

 

 

 

 

 

That Night in Kamakura

The last trip we took together as lovers, to figure things out between us, translated…

That evening, as we walked to the aquarium in Kamakura, the lights were already, dimmed down inside, but, not far off, the tower on Enoshima was still flickering.

The wide streets extended out of the vast oceans, and the vacation homes by the beach, only a few had the lights turned on inside, we’d followed the roads, and there were, sporadic super convenience marts and restaurants, there was a huge but not at all crowded barbeque shop billboard, like those gigantic easily missed, but hard to ignored billboards by the freeways, with a few of the youths who were just, skateboarding in the plaza by the beach.

what the city looks like at night, photo from online…

Don’t know if we’d lived farther away from the stations, the streets were quieter, and opening the windows, we saw those lower older styled buildings, and the goings on of the lives of locals, with a very unique sort of a Japanese way of life to it.

Even though it was May, but the breezes in the early evenings had already, cooled back down. We sat on the steps, where we could hear the tides, singing away, there were night runners passing us by, and those pairs of friends or lovers, lighting up the fairy sticks by the beach, making it even more resembling to the scenes in the Japanese movies, with those sparks of bliss, lighting up sporadically in the dark of night.

Afterwards, we’d decided we should run home, and, the streets without the stoplights, the cars, almost sped by us fast, I, in my flipflops, and you dressed very casually, we’d still NOT had any destinations, but wanted to breathe in each and every moment hard, with the darkening of the oceans, perhaps, we’d both, wanted a guiding light, answering our inquiries of: are we our best selves already? The two souls that were sent adrift in the seas, to me, that was, the scent of being lost at age twenty-three, with the craziness, dimming out slowly, but, it was still, a happy time in our lives together.

查看來源圖片the beach in Kamakura, photo from online…

So, there’s, that strong scent of nostalgia here, of sharing something intimate with someone that you loved, and yet, perhaps, you two realized, that you’d, wanted different things in life, that, is why you took this trip together, to figure things out, and, unfortunately, it looked like, that the two of you didn’t last for the long run………

Happy Graduation

Seeing her child come of age, the thoughts of a mother, translated…

It’s, as if in a daze, the roads turned bumpy, I’d focused my eyes, and, those originally familiar looking streets, became, so unfamiliar, and I’d raised up my left hand to ring the bell, with my right arm, slung my backpack on my shoulders, rushed off the bus, the bus sped off behind me, I’d focused, and, hollered aloud, “Ahhhhhhhhh, my temperature bag………”, leaving this defeated “hen” standing all alone, on the busy streets of Taipei.

I’d still had this sort of dreams every now and then.

That was the summer, many, many, many years ago, as I’d just become a mother. This feeling was like being late for a major exam I’d had when I was younger, and after I woke in cold sweat, I’d realized, that I was, already, out of school.

My son, in his infancy, as he heard my version of “Little Kitty Cat” for mealtime, “Mimi, darling/Mimi, my baby/come drink the milk, come drink the milk/here’s, that yummy milk for you………”, he’d wiggled his body with excitement, and get himself closer to my breasts, and worked hard to suckle. Being taken in with his motions, I was, enjoying being a mother then, without realizing, that more trials were coming my way.

這天,我憶起過往,細數這段上課「食光」,許多美好的回憶取代曾經的跌跌撞撞,耳畔迴...the trials this woman faced, raising her son up…illustrations from the papers online…

At first, my son didn’t quite understand how to suckle, and used his gums, and bit down hard, and, my loud “OUCH!” thrilled him, it’d made me start crying. The nurses’ care and concerns got turned into the barking dogs in the late of night, and I can, only run scatter into the dark streets. As my baby couldn’t get enough sustenance, and cried like hell, it’d, forced me to choose my mother-in-law’s breastmilk production recipes of: peanuts stewed with pork’s feet, the sea bass soups, the assortments of Chinese herbal remedies, along with the milking teas out there………

And as the neighbors discussed, “Is her son having enough to drink?” “Breastmilk only works for the first few weeks of life! Breastfeeding this long will only tax your energies!”, my mother said, “Before bedtime, he needs the formulas! He will get hungry fast, and you’d have to stay awake through the night, to feed him!” And, even though there’s care and concern hidden there, behind her words, it’d felt hurtful to me.

Many years ago, the breastfeeding places in public and in the offices aren’t that prevalent, I’d had to work in the daytime, and I’d needed to go and breastfeed my son in the smelly restrooms; as I’d gone on business trips, I’d had to send my bagged up breast milk home by service. I’d had a childrearing volume in my left, the tools in my right hand, worked hard at it, and finally, I’d become, good at it. But, how much of these earliest memories of feeding would my child ever actually recall? I really can’t tell, and still, this would be a special memory that’s shared by me and him alone.

On this day, I’d recalled the past, and, counted out the memories, and, the nursery rhyme “Kitty Cat” came accompanying the fast-beat graduation tunes.

So, this is, tracking the milestones of your child’s growth, as you’d become a mother, you’d gone through some hardships in life, and yet, now, your son is an adult now, and, it made you realize, that all the hardships in your life previously had been, more than worth it.

A Damaged Poem

Tune out ALL the noises from outside, and just, F-O-C-U-S!!!Translated…

The poets wrote mostly bad poems, if he knows that he wasn’t any good at writing poetry, one of two results can com: first, he’d known he wasn’t cut out to be a poet, and never wrote another verse again.

Secondly, he’d known that he wasn’t good enough yet, and tried to write better, and those bad poems can also instill the poet, into writing poetry well.

What’s scary is, that most people won’t admit their own faults to themselves, and always believed, that whatever that they’d written was a masterpiece, that there’s no debating that. And, if the poems got tossed out, then, they’d blamed the readers, the reviewers for being blind, of not knowing a good poem when they saw one.

And so, the above assumptions are all ideals, they will never be true.

And so, all of this still showed, how writing is very subjective, that the writer is the only one, who can correctly critique her/his own work, because nobody else KNOWS the mindset you’re carrying, to write out the proses, the essays, the poetry you’d written out, and so, don’t let anybody else’s opinions of your work define who you are!

On Forgiving Those Parents of Ours, for Damaging Us When We Were Still Too Young to Fight Back…

Don’t open your chest up let the butterflies out burn the velvet gloves and seek to trust hands held over hands in circles dancing to the gravy of secure claim Don’t risk dissolution by the marble hands of your own family it never gets easier a little death upon a little death pursed words kissing […]

via Claim — TheFeatheredSleep