the beauty in struggle and the pain in beauty

for the past two weeks i've had the opportunity to work at a day care center for developmentally disabled kids, most of them autistic. a lot of times i feel like i use the word opportunity as a niceism cause it sounds nice and polite. but this experience was something really special. there were times when i really didn't want to go and times at the center where i felt like i was going to freak out. but not to idealize or glorify their conditions and the real challenges they face, i learned a lot, got inspired in ways i haven't before, and i just really appreciated the time i spent with them and the staff at the center. 

prior to working there i had a really weak understanding of what autism is, and it's still weak, but i guess autism is disorder where you process information differently, especially social ones. a lot of the symptoms i saw were, communication problems, repetitive behavior and just completely unique ways of interpretation and expression. also almost every kid had different symptoms so what works for one kid doesn't work for another.  

i think there were two things that stood out the most out of all that i garnered there. one was just how infinitely exotic and flamboyant everyone of us are, and how our perception really alters our state of love for others. the second was sorrow at just how hard it is to live with disabilities. i'm not sure whether this is justified, and i in no way intend to place values, and maybe this is more so in response to an unaccomodating society, but maybe this will get more clear as my thoughts sink into this page.

there was one friday where i was left with 3 kids all alone. one kid was hitting himself on his head and groaningly shouting words and noises i could not decipher, a kid smiling on the couch occasionally moaning plaintive appeals to the air and another kid digging his nails into my arm so he could sink his teeth into my flesh; i personally feel i'm not a complete stranger in the neighborhood of bites, but i've never experienced that sensation of what meat in cartoons must experience, the slow elastic tearing away of flesh that breaks off not because of the bite but because of the pull. the kid's seeming uncontrollable pent up feelings seemed to express what i felt, an overwhelming tumor of an emotion spreading through my mind and trying to vent but not translating into any coherent action. i felt paralyzed as if i was in the middle of a fire with a firefighter's uniform but without the gear or the training, or worse just boots, underwear and those weird shaped hats and maaaaaaybe an axe, but probably useless because of its overbearing weight.

later it became clear that the kid hitting his head didn't like certain sounds, and the kid smiling on the sofa knew that and so purposely made those sounds in his mischievous youthness, he also had a much milder case of autism and that was probably a source of other stresses in his life, and the other kid bites people when he feels stress, most likely caused by the noise the other two were creating.  it was a completely incomprehensible situation at the time, but totally coherent if you know them and their way of communicating. it might have been possible to resolve the situation by asking the sofa kid, or enticing him with a task, to go down stairs and away from the other two. the staff who so lovingly and understandingly explained this situation were really inspiring. in a place where probably so many people would rush to judgement and try to escape or avoid the situation, they truly tried to experience and understand the world through the eyes of the kids, which i ambushed by preconceptions failed miserably to do. but i think identify with what they feel. though our conditions are different don't we all bang our heads against walls that we don't see, thrashing out un-embraced emotions upon what is within hands reach, wanting unrequited desires, crying out lonesome thoughts that go unheard? isn't that what living and growing essentially is? at least to one degree...

and so at the end all i have is mad respect for the staff at the day care center, for the parents and for the kids. but i do feel pain at how hard it must be for the kids and parents, but obviously not pity. like others, their stories must be ones of victories, failures, misunderstandings and overcoming of that which alienates, not to mention neglect and prejudice by the government and society. though struggles may trigger more beauty it still is a source of more pain, and that thought of times when people break down under the weight of struggles that at times seem bigger than the fight they have in them makes my heart is pierced with a dose of poignancy. but when you see the smiles that exude extraordinary love, stories that reveal uncommonly generous compassion, sorrow is replaced with awe. it was a great learning experience, and i feel shamed that this experience was yet just another window in my landscape as i move on to other stories and struggles, but i feel extremely grateful for the time spent with them and i hope i will be able to incorporate their stories into the one i am slowly kneading with each step i take. 

home??

and so it is. After a short interminable-6 months in India, i have safely imbibed the honey-rich air of home and japan.
physically in one piece, emotionally at least two, possibly three.
it's nice to be home, to have people who will recognize your face and smile smiles that release forgotten pleasant feelings that stitch together the sea of time that once in a distant memory separated. in that moment, that first encounter turns into a moment that has always existed, a timeless, shapeless Pangaea we create through relations. but even so i feel i'm also lost, even in what i call home. so i think i'll write about how the past has melted into the now.

i remember during college a thought that constantly haunted me was the ghost of home. it was not so much an image of home or yearning of getting a plane ticket to go home, but an unrequited desire for something that no longer existed. home as it was no longer existed, friends left for other locations, family relations were forever altered and the ghost was literally that, a fading presence of home, transparently blending into other locations that have no absolute value but only conditional meaning derived from uncontrollable factors. and that thought was scary, that i had no where to run to, that even when a storm yanked away tree branches and rain pelted down the hands that reached up to grasp something real, something tangible, there was no longer somewhere i could run to for shelter, for a warm sheepskin blanket and a bowl of warm miso soup, someone to reassure me that everything was going to be alright, but it didn't happen cause the fugees broke up and they didn't come to dance that night.

i bring that up cause, A. the fugees were tight and should have stayed together, but also B. because home no longer had that absolutely value anymore. from afar it still has homeland status, but in reality i guess home is wherever different pieces fit together, and it takes time to find and connect the different joints. it's still an extremely comfortable place and it's such a lovely home, and seeing friends and meeting new peoples who feel familiar by the time you part make my dead cells sorry that they split so promptly, and spending time with my dad, cooking for him, drinking with him, talking to him about my life and the world and all the notes that fall in between has been groovy to say the least. but as of now japan is a transient space. in reality i guess my life style as of now is transient as a whole, and it's taking its toll, and it's nobody's fault but mine that i keep falling in love with all the fabulous people and beauty that surrounds me, and then i pack up and leave, leaving scattered holes of myself in different potential homes.

i can't really sum up my experience in india but the last day and the last week was definitely pendulously pendulous, but maybe from day 1 it was that way. i think more often than not india was an experience i was trying to sprint through, the end's seeming endlessness installing a frame of mind of survival rather than enjoyment. not to say that i did not meet amazing people who make living soo bitterly sweet in so many ways. but building bonds takes butt loads of time and sometimes that becomes discouraging cause when you're on the fly, it makes me cry that the well of love can go dry. predictably, the last week was filled with yearning to get out of unfamiliar territory so i could thoughtlessly float in a paper cup like a straw, hollowly functional, and just be a mere bridge between a pool of love and people, piping out sheer quenchingness to those in thirst. at other times though, i felt a burning yearning for setting down roots and strawing it up right then and there but then realizing the that was a hollow dream and i felt contempt for my style of life. in moments of parting i think emotions are attracted to polars, and a weird emotionalypics is commenced, encouraging oscillations of feelings trying to outflank the happy-sad continuum, swinging from groovy happy to gloomy sad like the 1920s were back. pretty emotionapocalyptic.

for me india was and was, and is and is india, just like japan is so japan. a country and a culture and a people's are always infinitely multifaceted. places that have a lot of character will always have an image that sprints past its physical embodiment, leaving traces of a place way before you arrive to the actual location. i was not there on a spiritual quest nor in search of meaning. just like everywhere i saw people struggling to survive, hustlin for a better life, for happiness for peace, obviously all in their unique conditions and statuses. i had a great time as well as a difficult time, and i have grown as a person there just as i am right now. i don't mean to belittle my experience but i also won't idealize it as many people seem to do. if anything i am as motivated as ever in pursuing liberation of all peoples because until all are free, none are free, and that is a belief i'll pursue till we all wade in freedom's sea.

india to me was where my ideals collided with logistical limitations as i did important work at an office that was less than stimulating but where work was needed to be done. i encountered lovely people who even though i couldn't speak to them and we had vast assumptions about each other, through our smiles we traced the histories of our lives. i felt the pulse of the city as i rode the bus through the city in the heat squeezed together like lovers embracing as if it was the last. i ate heavenly food while sweat, snot and tears, the holy trifecta, slipped away from the heat of the spices. just sitting one night i sweated so much i started laughing at the absurdity of the heat as my hair adorned itself with shimmering perspiration. i felt my heart slowly melt into aromatic wax as i conversed with amazing people who captivated my imagination with intoxicating word rings, extraditing me to a land where words cease to exist and emotions are directly hand woven and given. i lived moments that i wished could be preserved forever, where i wouldn't have to turn the page over because a small perfection was inscribed on that page, and i endured moments where i wished i could just hide under my blanket and wake up to a new day. it was a little bit of everything and whole lot of nothing. and as always at the end connections were severed and springs of inspiration receded until i started to dream of those distant memories that only happened a second ago but were left in that specific time and place, glinting faint yesterdays. i won't say that those bubbles of meaningfulness didn't leave indelible prints around the halls of my mind, but leaving a community has its consequences and its blighting my senses.

and thus here i am at home but not really. waiting for the future to start, yearning for the past to catch up. at present, i guess i'm kind of out of my mind and body.

poetry ain't an art, it's a state of mind, fool!!

I never gave you the keys,

so i'm confused why you're in here.

I've always kept my door shut,

even if nothing was there.

I never gave you the keys,

yet now there's not 1, not 2 but many of you here.

And truth be told, i really hope you stay,

or come again tomorrow, or even later today.

Cause you all are the light that was sorely missing,

the music that makes my heart go a sizzling,

Fuck keys and thanks to those who ignored my unfriendly signs,

leaving ineffable traces of sweet wine,

cannon bombs of fun,

and flourishing flowers under the sun.

in return, Love, is the best i can do,

expressing and living it true.

just something i wrote right now in the delhi heat cause i had a case of irrepressible beauty, which someone probably left behind, but i had to let it out.  some people quite simply and cheesily, inspire me to become the best, nicest person i can be and i feel so blessed to have met such people. even when times are hard, i just need to remember about these velvet smooth souls, and that'll remind me what i'm living for, velvet. i wonder if my capacity to love has just increased, or people's loving feelings have increased recently. whatever it is there's some mad magic in the air, and i can't stop sniffing it, especially cause i now have wicked yogic breath thanks to india by way of yoga, except sometimes when i have nasal problems which is an issue i briefly brushed upon in my penultimate post.

It's mad hot here...

it's the ma-h-nnnn i can't wait to get a beer kind of hot. it's the is it just me or are all the glasses inadequate and inappropriately sized cause i'm going to need at least five of these hot. the can't i sit in my bed at night without having to drench my shirt in sweat hot and the how many shirts do i need to buy so i still have clean ones by the end of the day hot. the just sitting causes super sweaty thighs, causing sticky clingy clothes, causing let me subtly but obviously grab my underwear and try to extract it from my butt awkward motion all the time hot, the damn have liquids always tasted this good?!?! hot, the sorry earth, usually i don't like showering but now i just gotta take them all the time hot, the how close can i get to the ceiling fan while still being safe? hot, the if you're keeping that bus window to keep your hairdo straight i'm going to punch you hot, the i use my sweat for salt now hot, the if you don't shut up right now i'm just going to have to punch you hot, the "pardon? could you be so kind to help me unzip my skin" hot, the i'm going to punch you because it's hot hot, the punching my self to supplant heat with pain hot, the suns gonna knock me out hot, and it's the, and it's the, it's the, it's the aaaaaahhhhhgggghhhh. naw, it's pretty hot but i think i'm-a-gonna be alright.

but seriously, i'm going to punch if you mention how hot it is again.

What it takes.

Some people go on soul searching journeys, traversing through foreign landscapes to shake off the familiar past that hounds and haunts. Others dive under the cover of a dark heavy blanket that drugs provide, the brief seconds of comfort slithering through their evaporating fingers as they get on their knees and cup their hands to salvage the moment's ease while tragically prostrating to the overwhelming pain. And yet others turn to self inflicted pain, trying to supplant the uncontrollable hurt each breath causes, despondently descending the spiral stairs of melancholy, their wounds a mouth opening towards the sky as if a receptacle loyally waiting for heaven's gifts; the wound only understands the language of blood though, and any opening where joy can whisper its thoughts is oozed over by the viscous wings of blood as it hunts down its weakened prey. Like decapitated chickens, we aimlessly thrash our existence against the throbbing walls of grief's labyrinth, grappling with the pain that dominates the landscape like looming thunderclouds with no end in sight.

For me though, apparently all it took was some pigeon shit to find the exit.

Side note. i just realized this blog has a fair amount of references to bodily gunk. I'm usually not this way, i swear!!

This all happened as I was walking towards the park for my usual, writing, reading and hand-standing session after my 6:30 am Yoga course. As i was walking down the sleepy yet vibrant streets where the pleasant breeze of spring's last breath gently stirs summer's sleepy yawn, I heard a small splatter, a delicate hole opening in the universe, the breaking point of fragility. It was a strangely familiar sound and its irregularity blended in completely with regularity, like a delicate rose rising through the cracks of concrete pavement. As if i discovered one detail that suddenly makes an obscure painting legible, I suddenly felt heavy weights come off my shoulder, the overbearing universe's weight imploding with that pop, and i could suddenly raise my head and get lost in the expansive unconditionally-empathetic sky.

I looked towards the source of the sound and i saw star shaped bird poop resigningly sprawled on the ground. Clenching my hand into a triumphant fist, i mumbled to myself "today is going to be a good day." If i had walked just a little bit faster that shit would have been chilling in my hair, like the ganga chills in Krishna's, only not really at all. I know this sounds weird but in all honesty it felt like a breakthrough in my thought process, the definitive kodak moment, the proverbial cha-ching instant. Not that i've been stuck in a whirling black hole of negativity, but i did see myself pinned to a bad spell that at times seemed would never let me go. I don't know if it was just my mentality but recently i've also felt like i've been a victim to chance's fickle disposition one too many times so early in the year. A recent regular recipient of Timing's unwanted drop offs of coincidences delivered in a jenga-esque haphazard manner, i've found myself cluelessly standing on the wrong side of falling timber. But post-pop, post-bird shit Ian is different; without fully understanding it, at that point i viscerally knew that i had escaped from chance's infinite mischiefs.  Or at least i'm going to try my hardest to believe in the spiritual answer that bird shit will give me, and i will squeeze as much substance as i can out of that thing.

There's still a lot of uncertainty that wafts in the horizon. Just the thought that time and distance's incessant gales blew us apart still gives me the pangs. But in all honesty, i know i'm really lucky and i should just suck it up and appreciate what i have, which is already way more than i deserve anyways. so maybe through this, through the words of friends that help you be, through the birds' chirpings that float on the winds, i think i'm now ready to believe this was all just a kind of reality check, a balancing of accounts that maybe needed to happen one way or another. Kelsey also parted these wise words with me that's given me quite a bit of perspective. She said "everything is going to be okay. It's just going to take a little longer than i thought." well i say, Truuu dat. In the end, time's relentless normality will steamroll over my emotion's stubborn wrinkles and i'll put my ironed suit and tie on and dive into the intimidating flow of people snaking through the city, seamlessly accommodating an astray puzzle piece, all of us quietly following oblivion's footsteps. Broken hearts will somehow be pieced back together, if not in the same shape at least the same odor, and fractured feet will find their dancing shoes. i think somewhere far far away in a dark hallway where gentle sun light leaves its traces intermittently, i can hear my feet already tapping to the rhythm of the city.

PS a ps from my journal of that day.
"an hour later as i shifted to a more shady bench, i heard another pop right next to me on the other side of the 2 seater bench. I still haven't escaped karma's bombing trajectory but i think i'm going to be okay."

How quickly things change

Now i want to apologize in advance to any if this post offends. Especially to those who are eating while web surfing, which you shouldn't be doing in the first place, especially cause then your keyboard is going to get all oily and i don't want to borrow anyone's grimy ass keyboard. Anyways, today i picked one big bugga as i was crossing the street, cause that's how we roll here, and i could suddenly breath sooooo much better, like mountain top fresh air status. it must have been lodged there for a couple days cause i haven't felt this much inhalability for a while. You cannot even imagine how the light shone through my left nostril. I've found the light!! Anyways, more on ian's weird self therapy to come.

It's raining in Delhi

and i feel somewhere in between a root nestled in the soft dirt, rigidly but gracefully soaking in the whispering rains that gently scratch the earth, and a pile of cow shit getting splattered around on the street, longing for the warm comfort of a body as it grudgingly blends into the oblivion of pavement decorated with other cast asides, used and discarded by a society that's forgotten its tracks were for moving souls and not steamrolling past console.

Lemme explain.

My 23rd March of my life physically was nomadic, as a Fulbright conference, travels with my dad and travels with my friend from Middle and High school chaperoned me around India. Emotionally, i've been an environmental hazard cause i've been travelling between the polar extremes, excessively and egregiously. Spiritually, i feel like a 3D puzzle that was once carefully assembled but since dismantled by fate's chance wrecking ball, lays scattered on a table, purposely sprawled out over meaninglessness.

Still doesn't make sense?? Lemme explain some more.

My March is still deliberating whether to call itself Melancholy March or March Good Moods. To be able to travel with friends and family, with those that nurtured you and have seen you grow is a blessing; (bonus points for well place semicolon!) to be able to share your life honestly and proudly with those you love spreads satisfying soft ripples of warmth through your body. I admit that i sometimes forget to stop and smell the beauty that abounds and patiently waits for appreciation; to consciously wake up every morning and make a decision to love myself and others; to lovingly embrace the luck of being born and being present here and now on earth and being able to journey through these fleeting moments of the divine with those that i love and care about. My dad, mark, and friend, yukari, were simultaneously gracefully placed post-its and relentless booted kicks to the shin that reminded me of the ever present peace that we too often deprive our selves of. nevertheless, in that small comfort of the hermit's shell, i still can't hide the fact that i feel like i'm in a perpetual state of hanging over the precipice of drowning in my own breath.

it seems that my relationship with Yuko that started 7 years ago has come to an abrupt halt. apparently my mind is as blind as my eyes cause I had no sense of it coming, and all that remains is a failed table cloth trick where the table cloth that adorned and gently bebedded all my dishes was taken away and everything on top spilled, spoiled, smashed and scattered. It's something that breaks the heart but doesn't register in the mind. Such a weird feeling of believing in something to be so robust and solid that it could never end and one day reading an email that it just all crumbled... i guess i just got wall streeted, but at least i'm trendy, and it matches well with my trendy new thick framed glasses with Rhine stones in 'em.

It's also weird for me to write this in the blog, because usually i'm pretty private, but it was such a defining character of mine, and i don't feel like the same person. well i'm not. she was the thread that bound together my fractured and fragmented self, creating patchwork that no one else could. She made me whole and let me always be "it" to her ini mino mini mo. if i was anpanman, who's a japanese hero made of sweet bean bread, i totally feel like someone took a huge piece off and put it in the toaster and burnt it. what a waste... also, last night i had a dream that some bug was eating through my face and left a tunnel about the size of a pencil through my face. it was really bizarre and i didn't quite understand it, but maybe it meant that i've lost a piece of myself, and i have, and peace seems further away than ever.

so at current i feel completely distanced and abandoned from all that i care about. my work hasn't felt that meaningful, more than just my love, my life passion, my life soundtrack has gone silent and i've lost the rhythm of my life as each beat dully merges with the next. i've always tried hard to push myself but i'm really a timid, shy person and the only reason i've been able to accomplish what i have is because i knew that even if i fail at everything, i will still be important for one person and that gave me courage. Now i'm scared to open the door and let uncertainty come crashing in. Being in a foreign country with minimal social networks doesn't help either. confusion would be an understatement. my future just seems so uncertain, and i'm lost in a ocean with my anchor hopelessly lodge itself into the past. at current i'ma thinking of finishing my fulbright in mid-May, which would accomplish the minimum sixth months for resume purposes:) and head back home for a month for some soul searching b4 heading back to LA for some hardcore organizing, and reorganizing of my life...

for now, i guess i just gotta put on some Bobby M and put on my pants one leg at a time. It's a really dizzying moment because i really just experienced two extremes; simple and joyful happiness of exploring and journeying through unknown alleys and trails with those you love, and losing faith in the state of happiness through loss of one's love. I don't know how to express it properly but i really did depend on that person and to come back to you your room and realize it's completely empty is a heart freezing moment. i guess i just have to keep oning, believing in merrier days but right now it just feels like a test, and even if i pull an all nighter i feel like i'm going to fail. red bull, thy name is unsalvageability. so with the sweet taste that lingers in my mouth, i'll just have to accommodate the bitterness, and bittersweet talk my way to new days.

Nevertheless, here are some photos of good times at good places with good faces. even if my breath feels suffocating, hopefully time will liberate me...

From Ellora caves. Religious caves just carved out from mountains... Amazing devotion.















More carved caves from Ajant. Made over a period of a 1000 or years. I also went to the Taj Mahal but this was way amazing because it was no added resources. Just devotional crafts men and their hammer and chisel. And of course, my beautiful, hilarious and intelligent friend yukari. best travel companion in times of rough seas and in those of jumpy fun!

Me, my dad and my two aunties that constantly pet my head and call me "very nice boy." when i first arrived in the city, knowing no one and unable to navigate the foreign surrounding, they healed my soul with their 25 rupee (50 cents?!?!) all you can eat meals in their house. despite all our travels, ultimately i think we had the best time experiencing and sharing together a part of my life here in delhi, and that was a timeless experience.

I know everything is going to be okay, but sometimes it just feels more natural to soak in the hurt. But i'll be feeling that happy loving magic again soon i know.