A year ago: Mom's B-day

I wrote this on my mom's birthday last year.

July 19, 2010

Beach about 80 kms north of Nha Trang, Vietnam

"It was the emeralds and turquoise blues that drew me in, that and the honey-colored sand. It's all so vibrant that the colors fight to get my attention. In the distance, a faded mountain, sandy summits with brown-green peaks. Then nothing but a line of sea. littered with boats. The boats seem meticulously placed, as if pin-dropped like the 2-man vessel on the board game, Battleship. A cool summer breeze hits my face along with a hot musty draft, breathing it all in, slowly.

As I sat eating lunch, I realized what drew me in, the colors, the wind, the honey-sand and blue-white waves. My mother was calling me to celebrate her 43rd birthday with her. It sounds almost dumb even while writing it, but part of me likes to believe that somehow, somewhere my mom is able to invite me to experience things. Call to my heart and hope I respond with gratitude. I was thinking about things we'd do for my mom's birthdays. We loved going out to eat as a family. I remember going to Macaroni Grill or Red Robin with her. I loved sitting there with her, watching her converse, always smiling, watching her turquoise-blue eyes flicker with the hanging lights. We'd hum and haw and talk about good times. I absolutely adored my mother and now she's not here anymore. Currently, I find myself wandering on a bicycle, the reason not necessary intentional, but maybe I'm trying to find my way back to someplace that will give it all meaning. Maybe this emerald and turquoise blue sea is just a view, or maybe she's been here all along. Among the humble hosts and selfless gratitude that have lead me safely on this path, or among the breathtaking views and hidden discoveries. And her eyes shine on mine from the sea. Those honey-sand mountains her flesh, the brown of the distant mountains, her hair. Maybe I'm supposed to listen to her more, let her whisper her stories into my ear, like the ones she whispered to me as a child to send me off to sleep, the stories that are becoming my own. Follow her guidance, so I don't get lost. Listen and i will answer the best way I know how. Be patient and I will find a way back to her. I don't have a candle for you or a birthday cake, but I have the sea breeze and the color of your eyes right in front of me. Happy Birthday Mom!"

A year ago: Biking in Lao

A year ago, I took a tour of SE Asia. I traveled via bicycle from Saigon, Vietnam to Bangkok, Thailand.

7/27/2010

Crossing the Vietnam/Lao border into Lao

The border crossing was simple. It was bittersweet leaving old Vietnam behind. Many monuments/relics/stations from the war a faint reminder of a soured past.

Lao immediately gave me a welcoming smile. Everyone yelled "Bai Bai" as I journeyed a few meters from the border. I smiled and said hello and they repeated their "Bai bais". It was like I was the conductor of a parade. Kids would run out full-throttle, jumping in the air with big smiles on their faces with hands eagerly waving in the air.

I picked up the Lao greeting "Sa Bai Dee"! The hooting and jumping and hollering of the children made the 40 km go by in a breeze and I could feel the adrenaline surging through my blood. The landscape brought veins of stretched fields of palms and jungle, all leading to rocky-topped mountains filled with roads and needed exploration. A serenity filled the air. A modern Garden of Eden is what it felt like. Houses on stilts, blue roofs brighter than the sky. Streams and rocks, pastures and road-side water buffalo.

It rained and I took cover under what was intended to be a gasoline pumping station, but for now made the perfect shelter. I gave thanks to the man that owned the facility, it seemed connected to his living quarters, and smiled on my way out. A run in with a plastic bottle in the road made me almost biff it as I was waving at a big group of locals at a coffee shop before getting laughed at as I stumbled back to a normal ride. Smiles of the Lao people make it all better, their upper crescent is contagious. My smile could reach the moon.

7/28/2010

Sapon to Donghen, Lao

I'm biking in Eden. The butterflies flutter beside me, doing acrobatics right in front of my eyes, four coming together and then dispersing in a mad dash (practical aerial artists!). Three different colored, flying in parallels, like Sleeping Beauty's three fairy godmothers. It's the butterflies that constantly remind me of the journey, staying within the moment, struck by the beauty of the land, the greenness of the grass, the trees, the red of the clay dirt, the blues of the sky; the rooftops, the paint, the pastels of the butterflies, the greys of the distant rock, browns of waterfalls, skin sun kissed, wooden beams, whites of the smiling children. Brightly painted spiritual flowers, road markers, long roads stretching, mirages, tree silhouetted shadows, workers in the fields waving. Amazing.

Biking in Lao from Brandon Patterson on Vimeo.

Prince of Titan Flowers and the Four Cornered Sun

Clipping branches and spongy dirt chambers stuck to boots. Sweaty palms and bare feet bobbing up and down. Three boys walk hurriedly up to the lime-stone castle carrying the youngest of them. Black spots cover their faces, spots where the sun doesn't shine, shading from the overhead leaves and high-reaching titan flowers. The flowers fight for the attention of the sun, taking it from the stragglers below. But they're beautiful and worth the glory. Right? As the boys walk closer and closer to the steps of the castle, the black spots vanish as a clearing unfolds. The sun in its fullness of gold casts warmth upon their faces. Each young boy taking big drinks as if thirsty for the invisible rays. The one being carried sprawls out his hurting body. His skin lights up and the cells quickly fold and unfold, die and live, in order for the bottom-layered cells to also feel the glory of the sun. The peaks and prairies of the endless flatness that the rays create, the skin taking it all in, a wall of glory pressing. He's let go, falling to the ground.

Red sparkles from his head. A smell of stench from the titan flowers just barely in view, the smell they all despised, like death. The oldest of the boys runs to find the only man he could think of that could make it all okay. The fall was great, yes, but the tree limb seemed like it could hold. And why the youngest of them all? He was light and limber. When they crossed the stream, he could cross the stones without touching the water, practically dancing on the ripples. Was he to blame for this? A mark of shame spread across his brow. Did he corner his brother into such an action? To climb higher than the titan flowers? To be completely covered in rays? No shade. All four corners of light could of been on his little brother. He was beautiful and worth the glory.

No father. No grandfather. No doctor. The only person the oldest brother knew to turn to was the prince. The last chance. Perhaps this man whose castle was almost as high as the titan flowers could make the redness go away. Yelling with panic and hate, the servants quickened their steps and lead the boy to the chamber of the prince. The towering doors sprung open. Inside lay a meaty man, embellished with moss-coloured drapings and a velvet robe, safe inside his corm. "Come hither, prince, my brother lie dying". The prince only stood from his settee and placed one hand out, uncovering a large single petal in his hand. The boy took it and rushed back to his brother, the stench growing in strength. As the stones broke apart the dirt clots on his boots, he looked down at the shining red petal. It seemed worthy of something, beautiful and simple and once alive.

He found his brother, pools of pollen surrounding his head wound. He placed the petal against the crimson clot. It lay there forming an inflorescence of blooming red. The sun giving off its gold again, the brothers lift the youngest high above themselves, a last stretch in search of the four corners of light. The bottom-most cell reaching the kingdom of the titan flowers.

Cosmos Lurkin'

Great Grandma is ninety-two. Her skin wrinkles and tears...or shall I say 'tars". Language to a ninety-two year old is jumbled and messy and low. Chest pain in the esophagus when and after eating, or shall I say "Acid Reflux". Nothing but tars on the finger, tears in the eyes, cracks on the nose and da acid reflux in the 'gus.

She used to watch game shows with her great grandson. He would jump up and down, up and down, yelling "No Whammies, No Whammies" and she would just luf (laugh) and luf in her puffy chair. And he would luf right alongside her, especially when an animated Whammy would come and pour a ton of feathers all over that contestant lady with the red hair, making her lose her prize money.

Great Grandma would care for her great grandson every afternoon after a rambunctious day at Ponderosa Elementary. He would come running, no more kiss tagging during recess, and make it to her doorstep, panting and panting, just so he'd make it in time for the game shows. His mom, being a single mother and all that jazz, had to work long hours at the bank and was gracious for having such an oliving (loving) grandmother. Mostly everyone olived old great grandma, mostly because she would always carry fudge in her pocket, the great grandson always picking off the nuts on top; "Olive you" she would say as she handed over the fudge, alongside a peck of a kiss, a tag he gratefully accepted.

Nowadays, She kir-eyes (cries) and everyone just stars (stares). She kir-eyes saying “I’m afraid of death. What should I do?” Her relatives star and star, mouths sort of half ajar, waiting for her to stop her kir-eyes, not knowing what to say or how to say it. “I guess she’s lost it” people murmur. Her great grandson wipes away her tears, stars right into her eyes, as if running towards the doorstep of her soul. Here, there is luffing in puffy chairs, tons of feathers, and oliving without the nuts on top. Look close enough and hard enough through the stars and the cosmos will form, he thought, some place where the game shows make sense and the winners get the Whammies.

Snow Falls, then Melting

Glamor the sky up,
make it sparkle and glitter.
Whisping energy that collapses and,
gives way to the forces of gravity.

Tongue out, palms placid,
introducing the waves of brisk folding.
Retinas wide,
trying to feel the coldness on the inside of the eyelids.

Placed and balanced,
a never ending snow fall.
Breathing in the moment,
flakes landing on lashes.

Melting upon impact,
getting lost in the condensation equilibrium.
Still hoping to have some liquid on my lips,
as the brisk cold is felt, eyes wide open.

Sparkling Grasses

Sparkling grasses. I'm thankful for that thing that happens as the wind cascades through the unbroken grass blades like the wind a mother carries, calming her infant child. The small hairs moving, vibrating along with the shake shake shake of the Earth-child-crust. The leaves, yellow and changing to orange, acting as parasols for the eyelids and parachutes for the umbilical vein-stems of the leaves. The stream echoes on rocks as the jet engines roar overhead. There is a melody to the whole production, a slight easiness that makes the baby calmer and the pond heavy with water.

My body just an actor in a play filled with actors. All trying hard to act 'natural', to be 'a part' of the scene. I move as the sun moves and as the moon overlooks the sky. The spotlight doesn't shine on just one, but all, everyone and everything.

Simple Sanctuary

Stumbling. It happens. There are times where the body, mind and spirit hit a road where the perspective is that things aren't going according to plan. At least from my perspective, that's what happened. I became lost among the darkness, pathways winding this way and that. Then I remembered the younger days, the days of youth that made me happy, the answer seemed too simple. Go towards the brightness, the love exuding through early days of tears. I found it and the sun is shining bright.

I've found sanctuary in a simple place not far from civilization but far enough. It's Mount Pleasant, Utah and it's home. I'm living with my grandparents, one of which I was named after, Henry. When I arrived I immediately felt connected to the place. The changing colouring trees attracted every pore of my body, the fleshy yellows, oranges, reds beaming as if from a setting sun. The animals too seem to welcome me; white-tailed deer and small sparrows fluttering by and by. Tdwee-tdwweep. I'm amazed by the calmness it all eludes. Yes, I miss the sounds of streets and the go-go-go of city life. But for me, it's an escape from complexity and a focus on simplicity, a good thing.