Seattle, Solitude and Self

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I’m going to Seattle – flying out of Phoenix – alone.

I’ll walk to Bruce Lee’s burial site and I will utter his famous words:

“The key to immortality is first living a life worth remembering.”

I’ll walk a mile to the Korean Bamboo and slurp kimchi tofu soup which is the fare of my clan.

I’ll venture into the Seattle Art Museum, study Iskra Johnson’s Color Bath and art from Jodhpur, India.

I’ll go to the Space Needle and, standing on the rotating glass floor, look at the bustling world below me.

At night, I will write and paint and bask in the hushed moonlight.

In my sojourn, the silence will allow me to hear myself. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading

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I finished reading Kevin Kwan’s Crazy Rich Asians. It was hard for me to get into because materialism does not interest me in the least and the story line itself was pretty “soap operatic.” But when I abandoned judgment, I found it to be pretty entertaining albeit predictable. It’s Kwan’s first novel which became an international bestseller. I am planning on seeing the film when it opens in August: an all-Asian cast!

Next on my reading list is the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu. It’s really the antithesis of Crazy Rich Asians: a book that extols virtuous characteristics and behavior and rejects external rewards such as fame and wealth.

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Amending…

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Morning Doodle

 

He sighs as I speak

I’m his teacher

why talk about guns?

He loves them

I recount my weekend

driving up steep hills to find a lake

gunshots all around me

men with rifles and cans of beer (target shooting)

My dog was quivering beneath the seat

I express my distaste of weapons

Have I crossed a line?

THE line?

It’s a funny time…

 

When two comes before one

 

Walt’s Spider

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A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.