Time is of Essence

Steam Clock in Gastown, Vancouver

I heard this story on the radio this morning...

Once upon a time in India, a beautiful young woman came up to a handsome philosopher in her village and said to him, "Marry me for you will not find another woman who loves you more in this village." The philosopher replied, "Let me think about this and I will talk to your father when I have a decision."

The philosopher pondered over the marriage proposal for a long time. He could only come up with an equal number of pros and cons. Then he remembered what his teacher taught him. He should opt for a path that would allow him to have new experience if he ever came upon a crossroad in his life. He went to the young woman's house and told the woman's father of this decision of marrying his daughter.  The older man shook his head and said, "Too late, my daughter is now happily married and is a mother of three children."

The philosopher went home and became very depressed. He died shortly after. Before he died, he burned all his books and writings except a small note on which he wrote "Half of my life was spent on reckoning and the other half regretting."

Well, a majority of the people I know also have many regrets in their lives. When asked if they would lead their lives the same way again, their answer has been a resounding "No". I often wonder how much more improved and regret-free their lifestyles could be if they have let their imagination run wild and acted on new ideas or opportunities. I suppose most people are afraid of failures and prefer to sit on the fence until the last obstacle is removed from their paths.

I made a wish on my 50th birthday that I will find my Shangri-La - a place where I am free to act on my ideas without hurting other living things. In about a month's time, I will be celebrating my 51st birthday. I don't think I can have a birthday cake in rural India but I will continue to wish for the same thing a year ago.

On Sept 24th, 2013, I was in Hospet waiting for a bus for 12 hours to go to Bangalore, and I had a piece of cake during the wait. The lady at Hospet railway station gave me a BD gift by selling me a sleeper ticket from Bangalore to Kayankulum when the train was fully booked.My birthday wish was to be able to say "Happy Birthday" to Amma on her BD, and it came true on Sept 27th at 10:30 p.m. when I hugged Amma.

Six Blind Men and an Elephant

Last week I went to pick up my Indian visa. On my way back home, I visited a newly opened eyewear store in downtown. I wanted to check out the price of a new pair glasses with progressive lenses. The sales clerk warned me that it would take a few weeks for my eyes to adjust to these lenses and I would have to turn my whole head to see sideways because there are blind spots inherent with progressive lenses. I smilingly replied, "It would not be a problem because I have no peripheral vision anyways. I have learned to turn my head to see sideways a long time ago."

I reflected on my answer and pondered about the parable of the "Six Blind Men and an Elephant". Even though things might be seemingly apparent to us, we cannot always be certain that we have the whole picture. More often than not we only have 2-D snapshots of the objects from where we stand, at best. When we apply the dimension of time, the same snapshot will look very different at another point on the time axis. This observation totally illuminates the Buddhist concept of "Change is the only constant in life".

As a self-proclaimed problem solver, I always try to add a disclaimer that my solutions are time sensitive. What might work now could be disastrous if applied at some point in the future. My original plan was to settle in the South Pacific at age 50 and lead a more isolated existence because I have lost much faith in humanity, especially in an urban setting. After the bicycle accident in Tonga this March and having returned home to Vancouver for a speedier recovery, my plans have changed drastically. I thought I should attempt to seek love and compassion again.

It would appear that South India has the highest concentration of spiritual gurus who advocate love and compassion. Back in December 2010, I took a virtual journey to South India. For a couple weeks, I visited several South Indian ashrams in my mind. I focused on comprehending the teachings, and meditated most of my waking moments. I came out of my virtual retreat refreshed and my physical health improved; however, I did not experience the love that I was looking for. Hopefully the upcoming South Indian visit will bring me inspirations and perspectives that I sought after in my previous virtual journey.

Sacred Places

In December 1999, I visited the Holy Land. Even though I studied a lot about this area for many years before my visit, I was still mesmerized by what I saw, heard and sensed. I went with a group of Christians who would be kneeling and praying every hundred yards or so because we were literally tracing the footprints of Jesus, seeing what Jesus must have seen a couple thousand years ago. Many of the sites were just ruins and yet visitors were frequently overwhelmed by the surreal ambiance. For instance, while we were riding on a boat modeled after a traditional fishing boat, sailing on the Sea of Galilee, it was drizzling softly. We could easily envision Jesus walking on water in the mist, calling out to us just like he did to his disciples.

Sea of Galilee

Bodh Gaya is the place where Sakyamuni became enlightened during a long meditation under a Bodhi tree. It was 105 degrees in the shade when I visited the Mahabodhi Temple in September 2003. Yet it was surprisingly cool and breezy when I walked by the offspring of that very tree. On the same trip, I also went to Tibet. I observed an unusual occurrence. No matter what kind of weather it was in the morning and early afternoon, it would always rain at 5 p.m. in Lhasa. In the early morning, the land was once again pristine. It was as though the unceasing veneration of the prostrating believers touched the Gods who in turn sent the rain to wash away the impurities and dirt every afternoon.

Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya

Bakhor Square, Lhasa

Machu Picchu is merely 2430 meters above sea level; yet clouds linger around the site constantly. Llamas roamed all over the place. It is commonly known as the Lost City of the Incas. I managed to have a picnic at a quiet corner in the lower part of the site. While eating my sandwich, I noticed a tiny bird perching on a rock not too far away. I threw a small piece of bread at him. He chirped for me. I threw another piece and he was singing away. Before I knew, I was in the middle of an ad hoc symphony performed by dozens of small birds all around me. The miracle part is that I am normally scared of birds. But I did not experience any fear or discomfort even when the number of birds got to be uncountable.

The magical moments of these sacred places captured my heart and mind. The indescribable peace that I encountered made me surrender to the higher power totally. I was united with my environment, and everything else was not important.

In March 2016, I visited the rock hewn churches in Lalibela, Ethopia. The churches are amazing engineering feat to bear witness to. What I experienced there made it a sacred place. One early morning, I attended a dawn service on top of St. George. Normally I would be too afraid to walk on uneven rock surface without holding onto some railings. There are no safety installations at the site but somehow that fear was lifted from my heart. I was very much at ease with the environment and hundreds of devotees.

Game of Life

While recovering from my injuries in 2013, I played Scrabble all my waking hours, stopping briefly for meals and personal hygiene routines only. I was trying to avoid taking painkillers by exercising my brain and keeping myself mentally occupied. For many years, there were two boxes of Scrabble sitting on the shelf in the recreation room. However, nobody wanted to play the game with me. So I resorted to play online with strangers on Facebook. Even though I was never a big fan of arcade type of games, I had to play arcade games in between the Scrabble moves to keep me busy. I was beginning to understand why arcade games are so addictive. As with material possessions, players always have an urge to get to higher levels every time they play. It is an addiction that is common for all ages since things usually do not play out the way that people plan. Arcade games provide apparently provide escapes from reality.

Online Scrabble is a snapshot of our society today. People seem to forget that it is just a game. Everyone is there just to win. Some youngsters have turned it into a game of "filling the blanks". They have no idea how to spell words with more than four alphabets. A few men play Scrabble to solicit cyber sex. After all it is a women's game and there is a high concentration of females. Most of the female players are no ladies either. I have been called names that I would be too embarrassed to repeat them here. I also discovered that there were websites dedicated to help people cheat at Scrabble when I had to wait for hours until the other player came up with the next word. At the end of the day, my love for the game could not help me to overlook the vulgarity of the players. Then I remembered why those boxes of Scrabble were collecting dust on the shelf.

Tree of Life

The Tree of Life carries different meanings for different cultures. The symbol is ubiquitous.  This is a magnificent image of such symbol on a wall of Wat Xieng Thong in Luang Prabang, Laos.

One meaning is the propagation of human life. These days people are more into investigating their roots and the genealogy charts certainly resemble trees. The family trees intertwine with each from marriages and adoptions. This Eastern interpretation carries an connotation of finite time frame of earth's history. Ironically it goes hand in hand with creationism as suggested by the Judeo-Christian faith.

A second belief is that the tree of life represents the accumulation of wisdom and knowledge. This interpretation is taken from the Book of Genesis. There is a Tree of Knowledge in the centre of Garden of Eden. However, this idea collaborates with the Buddhist belief of birth and rebirth. There is no finite start or end of the earth. The cycles are intermingled among all living things, human, animal, fish, plant, etc. The pain and suffering in this life is attributed to the bad karma that I created in my past life. I nourish my tree of life by doing good deeds and learning from my life lessons.

During these injury recovery days, I have had more time to reflect upon both interpretations. I should hope that I lead a happier life because of the good karma that I have attained. When my physical form expires, I would like to have people remember me by the wisdom that I have gained.

On the Road of Recovery

It is Day 57 of my recovery. Even though the wounds on my left knee and elbow are pretty much healed, I now face another kind of chronic pain. My sleep patterns are erratic. Sometimes I could sleep for 16-18 hours a day and sometimes I slept for 3-4 hours a day. I could hear my stomach growling and yet I have no appetite.

Perhaps I have become more aware of the trauma that my head sustained from the injury. It is as though a contractable steel band is put on my head. As far as I know, I have no bone fractures or brain injuries. I try not to take painkillers as much as possible. Massaging the scar on the left side of my face has somewhat lessen the tension in my forehead and around my eyes. I cannot read or watch television for more than a couple hours at a time.

The nurses have been telling me that my recovery has been remarkable. I tend to agree with them, claiming that the wounds on my left side now balance out the ones on my right side from the car accident three years ago. Two major accidents in three years are a bit too much to deal with for most people. Maybe I am just getting impatient to resume my journey. As the saying goes, what doesn't kill you would only make you stronger. I am definitely one of the strongest people that I know!

It is Day 80 since my accident. I now have a new hair line. I had to shave more hair to massage the keloids on top of my head. I am rather fond of the new style without the side part. It makes me look more intellectual. The dressings on my elbow and knee have been removed for three weeks. I have resumed walking after dinner since Monday. This week I could walk slowly for 15 minutes before the wounds started to hurt. I hope to increase by 5 minutes each week until the walk is 45 minutes long. I could not do the Xiang Gong exercises yet because my elbow would still bleed when moved too much. Both the knee and elbow feel very tight.

Who is my neighbour?

A bicycle accident in Tonga on March 1st cut short my South Pacific tour. I had to return to Vancouver on March 17, 2013 from Auckland, NZ for medical treatment.

I was hospitalized for 8 days in Tonga. Even though the hospital was recently refurbished, it remained a very basic hospital where nurses still wear the traditional uniform and doctors' ward rounds are kept formal. The Tongans took me in as one of their own and took excellent care of me. They had little but they gave their all. Nurses regularly came to the ward to make sure that the patients were comfortable. If it weren't for the multiple infections on the open wounds all over my body, I would have stayed in the hospital even longer. 

I arrived in Auckland on March 13th in terrible shape. The following morning I went to Auckland Hospital, trying to get my dressings changed at an Outpatient Department. Well, I stumbled into a "Transition Lounge". A nurse there took pity of me and changed my dressings on her break. Afterwards, she even looked up the phone number of a medical centre and urged me to see a doctor about the infected wounds. I was sent back to Auckland Hospital by the GP on duty at the medical centre. 

After waiting in the emergency ward for no more than a couple of hours, I was seen by an orthopedic surgeon at the hospital. He reviewed my wounds and recommended immediate surgeries with a hospital stay of 7-10 days. I did not have additional travelers insurance and opted to return to Canada for medical treatment. The nurses were kind and encouraged me. The hospital supplied me with compression stockings, blood thinners, new dressing and antibiotic prescription for the 13 hour flight.

My sister picked me from the Airport and drove me to Vancouver General Hospital directly on Sunday, March 17th. I was seen by emergency doctors, trauma doctors, plastics, orthopedics. They all took pictures of the wounds and poked at my wounds. After waiting for eleven hours in an emergency treatment room, a young doctor came to tell me that they would not do anything. He told me that I should see my family doctor instead and ask her to arrange for a home care nurse to change the dressing daily. 

Well, they forgot to contact the community nurse to change my dressing on Monday. When I went to see my family doctor on Tuesday, my dressings were soaked and gave out a terrible odor. My family doctor sent me back to the Emergency Dept of VGH right away. This time the Emergency doctor said that I should be able to change the dressings myself. I replied that I might be able to change the dressing on my left knee but I doubted if I could do that for my left elbow.

I might have grown up in Canada and considered myself a Canadian through and through after living here for so many decades. This whole experience nevertheless taught me valuable lessons.

"My true neighbor is somewhere else in the world."

My angels of mercy and me at the Vaiola Hospital in Tonga