Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy
cathy_edgett

Friday morning in Hong Kong!



Friday Morning:

 

I am still a bit tired and yet I woke from the most wondrous dream of owning a toy store and selling toys to children and teaching them how to play with them imaginatively.  We were creating a world for dolls, using rocks, rocks I have at home. I would choose each rock carefully from my special rocks I have displayed, like portable mountains, at home.  I just realized that this is one trip where I have not found a rock to carry home.  Hmmm!   The rocks that are displayed are cemented down, and I have seen few along the paths, and none of them have called to me.  I may not return with a rock, and perhaps, that is right, as I reach to carry this trip as light.  

 

It is hard to wake and leave a dream like that, one with children.  In the dream, there was a little girl shopping with her father, and he bought her teeny-tiny moccasins for her doll, and then, we found what I realize now was a combination of a pirate ship and a fairy carriage for her doll, and she and her father were so happy together, I cried. 

 

Perhaps I miss my parents here.  The world is so changed from what they knew.  I just realized I am ten years older than my father when he died.

 

Anyway, children are up for me on this trip. Because I see so few of them, each one is a treasure.  There was a darling little boy, about 2, next us at breakfast and he was dressed in the height of fashion as I now know it, in his little gray jeans and shoes that stuck straight out from the edge of his chair.

 

Garrison Keillor’s column today is great.  I will see if I can find a link, but, if I don’t, you can find it for yourself.  The internet access here is very sloooooowwww, and my impatience is fast.

 

Keillor in celebrating autumn, suggests we celebrate the productive, working, involved Emerson, over the melancholy, self-indulgent Thoreau.  Instead of marching to our own drummer, let’s hear Emerson.

 

          Emerson:   “Every great and commanding moment in the annals of the world is the triumph of some enthusiasm … this is the one remedy for all ills, the panacea of nature.  We must be lovers and at once the impossible becomes the possible.”

 

Garrison says Emerson said this “while he was out on the road plying his trade as a lecturer, peddling his books, earning the money he would use to buy the land for Thoreau to build his little cabin and pay Thoreau’s fine and get him out of jail.”

 

As you may know, Thoreau’s mother did his laundry while he enjoyed his cabin of solitude. 

 

Keillor goes on:  “Lighten up.  Get a grip.  Leave morose silence to teenagers; it’s too dramatic for you and me.  We have passed the great test of a republic, to survive the most incompetent leadership, and now we can anticipate a new era, one with no Bushes.”

 

I add and maybe the tide will turn so we can again afford to visit Europe.  The dollar sunk again today.

 

Garrison continues with Emerson:

 

          “This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it … Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”

 

Keillor ends like this.  “In other words, cheer up.”

 

What a relief it is to let the Bushes go.  It is fall, with the drop of leaves.  They stand naked and exposed.

 

I am with images of Macau this morning, and the biggest is the image of the woman asleep on the bench, covered with a sheet.  The sheet was over her head, and all that could be seen was her feet in stockings and her shoes next to her.  Steve says it looked like someone thoughtfully covered her.  The others lying on benches in that row were men, and, as I said, most were prosperously dressed.  Anyway, the image is with me.  I send energy and prayers her way, their way.  I don’t believe in making things illegal.  They just proliferate, so gambling is with us and with all its costs.  It is a game and we can learn from it, and maybe waking up without a toothbrush is a wake-up call.

 

There is a full page ad on the back of the International Herald Times today with a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche.  The letters are huge.   “WHATEVER DOES NOT DESTROY ME MAKES ME STRONGER.”   There is a photo of a sensitive looking man dressed in black with his eyes squinted like Keanu Reeves in the Matrix, and a fine haircut and a one day growth of beard.  The ad begins with these words:  DEFY: Power, strength, innovation – a true Revolution in both Aesthetics and Technology.  Racy bodywork houses a new generation of El Primero Chronographs.”  It goes on about a “muscular chassis with alveolar structure, high-performance engines,” etc.  I do not know what alveolar structure is, but I see the photo of the watch and wonder how a watch can be and do all this.  No wonder we feel insignificant.  How can we compare?  Advertising is an amazing thing. 

 

Imagined if we watched those whom we elect to govern with the intensity with which we might observe this watch on our arm or the arm of another.  Imagine the “dynamic lifestyle” we would experience then.  

 

It is again gray.  It seems we are not meant to see the sun.  It rained again in the night which was considerate.  We are glad we have not been hit with rain and flooding like Shanghai, so there is nothing of complaint.  We have the day free and have not yet settled into what that might mean, our last full day in Hong Kong.  Last night Steve ran into someone he knows in the hotel lobby.  It is a small place.  I feel a need to sit, just sit, and let my insides settle.  There are huge realms of history to roll into a ball, a scroll. 

 

I carry also the image of the Portuguese and how they honor grieving and dress in black.  Of course, the Chinese honor their ancestors too.  Perhaps I want to honor all of the people who have lived here, thousands of years of living, and gathering fish from the sea.

 

I want to create a Plum Village, a haven of peace and understanding, in myself.  I keep thinking of Thich Nhat Hanh and his book Being Peace, and the Dalai Lama and all the hours he meditates each day, and all the tears of laughter, joy, and sorrow, he sheds for each of us as we run externally and internally here and there.  Where is my fulcrum?   I stretch like a gymnast to find my balance, and fulfill what’s here now and now and now.

 

Peace!

 

It is my mantra for Now!

 

Garrison Keillor writes:

 

          “Nothing is so cheerful as the urge to commit art. The purpose of all great art is to give courage and thereby cheer us, just as the purpose of education is fundamentally cheerful – to draw us out of gloomy solitude and into a conversation with other scholars.”

 

I have seen and experienced a great deal of art on this trip.  Cheerful threads of peace spin round.  

 

The Bushes are almost gone.  Cheer!!   The Wicked Witch is dead, and we can all find Home Within and spread it out with cheerful shouts that again, Begin.

 

   

         

 

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