This is Love!

Mother's gentle breath tickles,
Trees shimmer in all their glory,
beckoning me to sit under their restful shades,
Father Sun spreads his rays of brilliant warmth
to envelop me in his embrace,
Birds flit about in eagerness
to share in Mother's precious gift,
Gift of life, love and energy.
Spreading out a feather soft blanket,
I lie with my back hugging the earth,
Mother cradling me tenderly,
rocking me to a dream state.
I look up at the sky, dazzling blue,
Fluffy white clouds rolling by,
Seagulls riding the waves of wind
in harmony,
Rainbow of kites dots the sky,
dancing merrily to Mother's rhythm
we all long to feel,
I close my eyes, breathe in the beauty,
the joy of this moment, this time, this place.
I breathe out all my cares and thoughts away,
send them off with the wind.
My heart opens up slowly
like a flower opening up its petals,
to meet its lover, the glittering sun,
and when I am in full bloom,
kissed by the sun,
I know this is LOVE!

Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya

Beautiful is the laughter of heart overflowing with love
Infuses happiness to all whose ears are open to hear and feel
Like the sun clearing the horizon spreading its warmth, its rays
Gently caressing and embracing upturn faces, eyes closed
Smile curving lips softly, winds weaving songs in silken hair
Swaying with the nature's music, arms stretched out to the sky
Birds chirping and rustling the bushes to flirt, flit and fly about
Calling its love mates to come gather and play in life's celebration
Leaning back into the loved one's chest, sighing in relaxation
Hands joined, palms pressed, chest to back, cheek to check
Could stay like this to eternity, feeling so much joy and love
Spilling onto the pavement, connecting us in this golden web
Of beauty, of laughter, of joy, of happiness, of discovery, of feeling
Life is wonderful, radiating love from within, all are beautiful,
Hearts reaching out to touch, embrace, love, feel one another
Spread feather soft wings to soar up to the sky and fly to the sun
Slowly drifting down, gliding down, gently wings folding inwards
Feet planted firmly on the ground, mother nature cradling back lightly
Hands, palms giving each other a kiss, holding together in front of the heart
Om namo bhagavate vasudevaya, Om namo bhagavate vasudevaya

Love Has Found Us

Love has found us
Happiness fills all
Whole world rejoices
At our final union

All my life I want
This love this life
I almost gave up
Thinking no more wait

Our love will set us free
We will fly up and up
Until we are one
With our divine love

It's so easy
To feel alone here
No one knows me
My heart aches

I am so lucky
To find you here
Ten thousand miles
Couldn't keep us apart

Our love will set us free
We will fly up and up
Until we are one
With our divine love

I love you always
Here and now
Forever and ever
You are with me

I'm with you
Always my sweet
You are my sun
You are my honey

I love you always

Magical Harmony

Wandering Windy Hill Open Space Preserve with my good friend one afternoon,

Felt Mother's love, her sweet love, in forms of natural living beings.

Walked a narrow dirt path next to Sausal Pond covered with thickets and ferns,

One would not walk down this path as the dryness of grass and shrouds of trees

do not make an easy path, but something was calling me to take a peek.

Past the thistles, we strolled, hearing little chirps everywhere, there was so much life

in this lifeless dried up place, only had to open our ears and hearts, and She was there.

Mallard ducks and other birds drifted in quiet happiness on this magical Sausal Pond,

I thought you wouldn't think such a place existed in Portola Valley, but here it was.

The path suddenly ended and there it was, a bush-like stout tree and a pretty song sparrow

sang and flew around to call out her cheerful greeting, then dove straight down

under this bushy stout tree, five feet away from me, so close, and the song sparrow was not afraid.

I watched in pure amazement as she started shaking her body in nature's dance

She jostled back and forth making her ground nest, so close to me, inviting me to take a look.

Laughing with pure delight and calling out to the song sparrow, "Hello there, what are you doing?

Thank you for sharing with me, your nature's love dance, making a love nest for your little ones

who will surely come with this winter's passing, I am blessed to witness such beauty."

We walked back to the main trail, feeling the love of nature and my friend showing me

miner's lettuce and cleavers, still hearing bird songs all around me and can't seem to shake

this feeling that She is there with us and She wants to show me her love and her nature's children.

Seeing movements through bushes to my right, I peer and peek through the ground

thinking what birds are rustling around these grounds, calling for our rapt attention, and there I see,

Two long brown ears twitching and there she goes, a cottontail rabbit, hopping away,

And I clap and laugh in enchantment of this rabbit and this place and I know She is here.

My heart is open and the magic is here, She is here with me, sending me signs to feel her presence,

Birds greet me with their love songs in the morning outside my bathroom window,

Whirling around in funny circles in front of me and I'm giggling in my car driving to work in the morning,

Sea gulls flying lazily past in a flock as I am driving down Highway 101 thinking of Her,

Moths dance in front of me in little twirls in this house and I laugh at their antics and their love,

This magical harmony, in front of my eyes, and I believe Her, She is with me.

So much love, so much magic, so much happiness, my heart constantly aching with everyone's love

and feelings, and I treasure each and every moment of my life and I worship her beauty, her power,

her compassion, her love, her sunshine, her natural children with humble devotion and many thanks.

India

India awakened me from a deep slumber
I was lost in a sea of dreams
false hopes and ideals swept me under
didn't know how to break through the surface.

Lost in a sea of grief, my painful past,
never knew how to free myself from fear and loneliness
was loved always, but did not know how to love myself
gave confidence, gave dependence to my loved ones
thinking they will hold me tight and never let me go
afraid of dark shadows of my loneliness.

Money, success, career, stability I wanted for myself and others,
ran blinded towards things I gave so much meaning to,
and when achieved, my heart was void and aching to be filled
with something, I don't know what, something beautiful and true,
was yearning, searching, and seeking, for this something,
I don't know what.

Then one blessed day in Khajuraho
a cut of my arm caused by a scooter accident
and jagged rocks dug up on the road,
my red blood river ran free,
dripping down my arm to kiss the earth
and my mother, my Goddess spoke to me,
I finally heard her voice,
my love came to me
my third eye opened
my heart overflowing with feelings I cannot dam up
tears flowing down my face with abandon
Not of sadness, but pure joy and blessing.

Thank you mother Goddess, thank you for giving me a new life
I know now why I was brought to this earth
Why I was given so much pain and suffering
Now mother, my Goddess,
gifted onto me the most precious gift of all
Loving oneself, unconditionally,
and giving me my love who loves me the same
One heart, one love, one feeling, I am so blessed.

I walked barefoot and climbed up to a Shiva temple,
from the streets of Chitrakoot,
a holy city where God Rama dwelled during his exile
with this beautiful wife Sita,
I waded barefoot in holy waters in the cave temple,
rocks digging into my bare feet,
I was happy to breath in hot damp air in that cave temple,
I felt Her love and spirit,
At temple in Kalinjer Fort, my heart knew this holy place,
from my past life,
I bathed my forehead, my hair, my hands, my feet in Her water
and I was healed.
I walked, I worshiped, I breathed,
my love for Her flew out and over the sky,
my heart at peace with mantras swirling around me,
blessed be.

Money, power, success, what are these that drive us blinded
Mean nothing to me, I would not trade my love, my inner peace for anything
Found meaning in this life, I want to give love and hope to those in need.
If I can open their eyes to love oneself and see the Goddess within our hearts
Then I will share this knowledge, my Goddess' gift,
I will share with one and all until my last breath of this life ceases to be,
but will forever be embraced in my Mother's arms.

In Varanasi, waiting on our mother Sun to rise,
on a small wooden boat rowed by boatman and his big bamboo paddles,
I gave a gift of flower and tea light candle to our mother Ganga,
Floating the gift on Mother's open hands, I set my heart free to fly,
I wished for the good of India and its people, I wished for their happiness,
India gifted me and I wanted to return it my love and gratitude
I am free to love and to be happy and in the end, that's all that matters in life.

Where Is She?

We are searching for her
Who comforts us
Who enfolds us

We are searching for her
Who kisses us
Who nurtures us

We came to this land
To find her
To seek her
Where is she?

O come to us
In love
In light
In life

Over the mountain under the sky
We are searching for her
Through the valley over the hill
We are searching for her

Who loves with all her heart
Who believes in all our work
Who watches over all our souls

We came to this land
To find her
To seek her
Where is she?

O come to us
In love
In light
In life

Wake Up!

Sleepwalking
Dreamwalking
Days pass in dazed confusion
Living life through television set
Walking the same streets every day
Seeing the same old people every day
Staring straight ahead yet through vacant eyes
Glazed, trudging through this monotonous existence
Passivity creates stale atmosphere
Spreads and filters through surroundings
Trickles down to beloved young ones
Infiltrates this whole nation, culture
Wake up!
Get off that couch! (literally)
What gives you joy?
Singing at the top of your lungs (in shower is ok!)
Learning a different language
Blowing on your trumpet
Riding a bike around town
Strumming a guitar
Walking barefoot on sandy beach
Learning to salsa and cha-cha
Reading a new book
Banging on a drum set
Painting your heart's desires
Skiing down a snowy white mountain
Knitting a scarf for your loved one
Driving along the coast with windows rolled down
Writing poetry, flowing through and out of your heart
Dancing with abandon and passion
Hiking up to the mountain top to shout your love out
Learning, Knowledge, Creativity, Doing awaken hearts
Happiness pours forth into one and all
Brings us that much closer to each other, to our God.

Thank You

Wondering soul I was

Lost soul I was

Until you came into my life

Cornered and scared I was

Wounded and closed I was

Until you gave me hope to believe.

All my life I was searching for someone

Someone to fill the void of my loneliness

And when betrayed by Love,

I shut the gateway to my heart,

shut down to the world

shut off my path to love.

But now, my eyes are open
Through your unconditional, selfless love
I found the one I was searching for
It was not you I found, it was me I found,
I will fill the void of my loneliness
I want to love me and I want to be happy.

Through you,

I see the strength in me,

Through you,

I feel the passion in me.
Through you,
I feel the compassion in me.
Through you,
I feel the love in me.

With you or without you, I realize,

I can do anything, I believe.

So tell me what's it all about

It's about that gentle yearning
a little tug on your heart
an involuntary upward sweep
of your ruby red lips
running my fingers in your feather
soft hair as you rest your head
on my lap and your long curvy
lashes I am so jealous of sweep
down to kiss to tease to hide
your sweetheart eyes as I run
my fingertips down your stubbles
Crinkling my nose at this strange
pleasure of stubby hair bristling
under my fingertips and I tell you
that you need to shave and you reply
as you always do what if I let it
grow out and I say I don't like stubble
burns and you have never grown a beard
because you love me and that is
the nicest sweetest thing ever
you may grow your beard my love but
like I said, you will have that long gappy
kinda beard, not the kind lumberjacks
have you hear?

Mendocino

Delicate web of fog blankets gently

Caressing the rocky golden bluffs

Gold, feathery sway of tall dry grass

We run to the edge with open arms

Begging the sun to sneak a peak

Wind weaves sweet songs in our hair

Waves match the mother's heartbeat

Our mother's heartbeat luring us

Nature's lullaby rocks us back

Brings us to beautiful calm

Washes away our worries

Rejuvenation, rebirth comes

With this quiet little town

Creativity infuses our hearts

Our minds fill with simplicity

Drawing comfort in buzzing of

Hummingbird wings

Miniature pine trees wave

Squeaks of rusty old bikes

Bring smiles to our faces

We race down the windy hill

Throwing laughs around

in Mendocino.

Biking

Left right Left right

Rhythm of my pedals echoing my heartbeat

Breath puffs out in syncopation as my wheels

hug the concrete carpet

Rrrring ring Rrrring ring

U-locks nestling in the front wired basket

Bouncing merrily clapping in unison
They kiss with each bumpy ride

Green light red light
Flexing break grips as I look around
Smiles waves nods exchanged
"Your wheels are mismatched," chortles
my fellow bike commuter.

Excerpt from "1985"

Here is an excerpt from my life story titled "1985."  I revised and presented this portion of my life story at Oakland Word Reading held at Caesar Chavez Branch of Oakland Library earlier this month.  The full story will be published in the Oakland Word Anthology book set to publish in June, enjoy!

Six months after my first accident, Aunt Song and I were walking back from a bathhouse when I got hit by a taxi.  I was living in Song-Do with Father, and Aunt Song came to live with us for several months before following her parents to Florida.  Our one-room home in Song-Do was not equipped with a bathtub or a shower stall.  Our bathroom consisted of a communal out-house and two buckets, one to wash our faces and the other to pour water over our backs when it got sweltering hot in the summer.  I loved the neighborhood bathhouse with its numerous temperature-controlled pools where I dog-paddled around for hours.  One day, on our way to the bathhouse, I said proudly, "Aunt, I can run fast!"  Without looking, I dashed across the road bee-lining for stairs leading up to the bathhouse.  I heard a loud screeching of car breaks and Aunt screaming, "HyeJin!  You crazy girl, your dad will kill me if you got hit!"  I laughed off the incident.  On the way back home, I wanted to show Aunt that I was indeed an excellent runner.  "Aunt, this time, I can really run!"  I dashed across the street, not seeing a taxi speeding downhill.  For the second time that year, everything went BLACK.

I woke up to a stench so powerful I gagged.  I had thrown up Kimchi soup Aunt Song had cooked for lunch all over my shirt.  Seeing me stir, Aunt exclaimed, "HyeJin, why did you have to run across like that, not once but twice?  I'm in such trouble!"  I had broken my right thigh bone upon impact, flying up over 20 feet.  I could not open my left eye because that side of my face skidded on the concrete road to break my fall, resulting in a huge scab covering my face for weeks to come.  Doctor told me, "You are lucky to be alive; you would have died if you fell on your head instead of on your face."  I ended up in a body cast and lived at the hospital for several months.

During my hospital stay, Mother paid me a visit.  Every year, Mother got her fortune told by a famous fortune teller.   Forbidden to see me after her family's refusal to take me in following the divorce, Mother started getting my fortune told, to check up on me.  In 1985, the fortune teller predicted my two near-death events.  In panic, Mother tracked me down to Song-Do.  She knocked on the door of our house only to find out from our landlady of my accident and the subsequent hospitalization.  Mother made a secret visit to the hospital late one night while I was asleep.  Aunt later told me that Mother silently cried by my bedside.  I wished I was awake then, to see my mother again, and also to tell her, "Mother, please don't cry, I am a big girl now.  I survived 2 car accidents, I can survive anything.  I cried too, Mother, the last time I saw you.  You were hiding behind a bus stop, watching, as your mother and your brother walked me to my uncle's restaurant and left me there inside, without a word.  Father came later, yelled and carried on.  I missed you, Mother, but I am alright now, so don't worry about me.  I will be careful, I promise."

Commuter Thought No. 2

BART commuters are creatures of habit.  We stand on the right side of escalator leaving left side open to commuters anxious to catch a train, running down the escalator as of their very lives depended on it.  At the receiving end of these rushing commuters, I imagine a big breasted, aproned matronly woman with curlers in her hair brandishing a spatula threateningly, a child coloring a scene from My Little Pony in her coloring book while a babysitter glances impatiently at the clock on the wall, or a scantily dressed lady lounging on an animal print chaise sipping red wine surrounded by artfully scattered rose petals and tea candle lights.  I chuckle at the thoughts.  What or whoever waits on the other end, commuters take daily rituals seriously.

You can spot a tourist or an occasional BART commuter right away because she will stand on the left side of escalator as if her action fits the schematics of BART commuter physics.  Soon a lefty commuter shouts down impatiently, "move over to the right if you are just going to stand there!"  Red cheek stained, the culprit turns around with a questioning look on her face quickly transforming into a look of dawning understanding when faced with so many impatient, sometimes angry visages looking down at her.  Muttering a quiet apology under her breath, she steps aside to the right and the dammed up commuters once again resume their torrential descent toward the train platforms.

While in the train, commuters must resist the gravitational pull toward the train doors with all our might.  On rainy days, trains are jam-packed but you find commuters opting for the crammed vicinity of the door with their faces pressed into smelly armpits amidst poking backpacks instead of moving further down the train car to enjoy the spacious isle.  This magnetic pull to the door prevents the rest of us to squeeze into the train.  A frustrated man shouts, "we want to go home too, now move into the isles and make room for the rest of us!"  The slow shuffling of feet loosens the magnetic, invisible cords wrapped around the commuters' waists chaining them near the doors.  The commuters waiting to board the train impatiently stomp their feet and rush in as soon as a slight opening in the sea of bodies is visible, to occupy any free space available.

Oddly, I find these random shouts of frustration amusing and satisfying.  As with habits, we become complacent and do not pause to think about or speak out about daily going-ons.  We walk around like those zombies in Shaun of the Dead, each in our thoughts, thinking of deadlines at our jobs or bills we have to pay sitting on our kitchen table waiting to be put in the mailbox, then WHAM!  The frustrated "now move over so I can catch my train" shout-out from our fellow commuter jars us out of our daily zombie walk, and we nod and mumble our full agreement.  We should be awake to live every moment of our lives, be it in the packed train cars surrounded by strange faces because, after all, we are alive.

*Photo courtesy of Will Harper, SF Weekly Blogs

Oakland Word, Oakland Local

As some of you know, I have been participating in Oakland Word (http://oaklandword.org/) creative writing workshops since February, thanks to Oakland Public Library and Cal State Library Grant.  Oakland Local (http://oaklandlocal.com) wrote several articles regarding these workshops and decided to run a series of stories featuring some of the writers participating.  Kenji, the program director of Oakland Word, wrote the attached article with an excerpt of my life story which will be published in Oakland Word Anthology, scheduled to be released in June.  Thanks to Kenji at Oakland Word and to Oakland Local!  What wonderful contribution to enrichment of local life.  We truly appreciate both of your endeavors.  <3, HJ

Here is a link to the article: http://oaklandlocal.com/blogs/2010/04/hyejin-yus-house-birds-excerpts-oakland-words-emerging-writers.

Here is the article taken from Oakland Local:

HyeJin Yu's "House of Birds": Excerpts from Oakland Word's Emerging Writers

Kenji Liu Wed, 7 Apr at 12:39pm

HyeJin Yu

Oakland Word has attracted writers from a wide range of backgrounds, representing some of the kaleidoscope of histories and perspectives that make up Oakland and the Bay Area. Our second excerpt comes from HyeJin Yu, who took the "Life Stories" workshop at the Main Library with instructor Bisola Marignay. The complete story will be published in the Oakland Word anthology, due out in June 2010.

OW: Why do you write? Who do you write for?

HJY: I write mostly for myself because writing is such a cathartic process for me. It's a great pleasure to write about how I see the world or what my life experience has been. If someone else reads my work and is inspired, that is a plus but I will continue to write for therapy.

OW: How/why did you choose Oakland Word?

HJY: A friend found out about Oakland Word through her Oakland neighborhood e-newsletter and told me about the program. Since I was working on my life stories, Bisola's Oakland Word workshop peaked my interest.

OW: Who are your 3 favorite writers and why?

HJY: Zora Neale Hurston, Maxine Hong Kingston and Bharati Mukherjee. These women writers inspire me to delve into my Korean heritage and write about it because our racial and cultural background color our writing and I find their works fascinating due to cultural elements.

OW: Did you learn anything surprising about yourself from taking the Oakland Word workshop?

HJY: Instead of writing life stories as if I was just telling a story, I learned to paint scenery with my words. I also learned to be a stronger person by writing life stories thereby facing and resolving painful past experiences. Oakland Word's workshop has made a tremendous, positive impact in my life.

OW: Will you be writing more? What kind of support do you need to write more?

HJY: I will definitely continue to write on my blog and also on my life stories compilation project. As far as support goes, it would be nice to have a local writer's group where we can share our writing and get a feedback from other writers like we have been at Oakland Word workshops.

---

Excerpt from "House of Birds" by HyeJin Yu

"Hang on!" said the policeman, looking over his shoulder. I wrapped my arms tighter around his waist as we sped along a narrow winding street up the hills of On-Chun-Dong. Cold wind whipped my short hair around and I burrowed my face deeper into the warmth of his back. Last night's events played out in my head.

I was huddling under a desk inside a concierge office in an apartment building where I've been living with Nam-Chun-Dong ajumma (“older woman from Nam-Chun-Dong” in Korean) and her family for past six months. The concierge office was no more than an enclosed glass stall big enough to fit a desk where a concierge sat guarding the entrance. Every day after elementary school, I would run into the apartment, throw down my backpack and leave to hang out at a nearby playground until it got dark and ajumma came home. Then came the winter; I could not keep warm at the playground no matter how many pairs of socks I put on. Our building concierge, God bless him, took a pity on me. He let me crawl under his desk and keep him company with my endless childish chatter until ajumma came home. Truth be told, I'd been hiding out mainly from ajumma's thirteen year old son who always liked to play rough with me, calling it tae-kwon-do or judo and flipping me around like a sack of potatoes. Afterward, I would always find a bruise or two creeping up on my body. I knew he did not like me; as a matter of fact, nobody liked me here except ajumma and that's because she was dating my dad behind her husband's back. She even lied to her husband about my real identity so I could live with her. I would not like me either if I was one of them.

---

HyeJin Yu first fell in love with the San Francisco Bay Area and its proactive residents while studying music and religious studies at University of California at Berkeley in 1996. She moved to Oakland from Florida five years ago and currently lives near Lake Merritt with her fiancé Travis and 3 kitties. When she is not biking around Lake Merritt with Travis or spending time with her East Oakland youth mentee whom she's been mentoring for two years, you will find her working on her literary blog called Lyrical Journey in Life (http://hyejinyu.blogspot.com). Since late 2009, HyeJin has been compiling life stories and poetry about her childhood experience in Busan, South Korea. Writing life stories and poetry has been a therapeutic and rewarding process for her. HyeJin thanks Oakland Word, for giving her motivation to continue her writing and opportunity to share her creative work with fellow Oakland residents.

About Kenji Liu

1.5 generation Japanese-born Taiwanese American expatriate of New Jersey suburbia. His Pushcart Prize and California Book Award-nominated writing arises from his work as an activist, educator and cultural worker. Kenji’s poetry chapbook You Left Without Your Shoes was published by Finishing Line Press (2009), available on Amazon.com. His writing has appeared in Tea Party Magazine, Kartika Review, and the 2009 Intergenerational Writer’s Workshop online anthology Flick of My Tongue. Kenji was a presenting literary artist at APAture 2009, a multidisciplinary Asian Pacific American art festival. He will be the new poetry editor at Kartika Review starting with issue 7 and is working on a multi-genre full-length collection of poetry, prose and visual art.

On the Way to BART this Morning

Big bright bubbles of sunny laughter burst

from my lungs and I grin with the blue sky,

It's a beautiful day today.

Smiling at the cute chick biking with her brown

leather vest hugging her black and white horizontal

stripe shirt pedaling her fixie downhill in rhythm to

Vampire Weekend's "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa"

filling my head as I skip down the street

and I grin with the green trees.

Smiling at the deliciously heady scent of onion bagel

wafting out from Specialty's at the corner
with its burgundy parasols dotting the front,

tempting the passerbys to take a minute, enjoy
sipping coffee, munching cinnamon sugar morning bun,

a slice of heaven right there, in the concrete jungle,

and I grin with the chattering birds.

Smiling at the woman in her smart chocolate suit

with a fluff of afro, chic sunglasses,
clickety clack of  her stiletto heels reverberating,

Elderly couple walking hand in hand,

matching pastel yellow hooded sweatshirt,

a gigantic fanny pack decorating her belly,

a tiny boxy ice cooler trailing him,

I wonder if Travis and I will be like that one day.

I smile and I laugh, joyously, 

letting the bubbles burst forth once more,

lifting my head up to the sky,

breathing in this lovely day.

Thank you, Mother Earth, for this moment,

I am truly blessed because I love to live and I live to love.

"A Bird in Love" by Shadi Torab

I first met Shadi at my current job as an architect for our in-house architectural firm.  Shadi and I both love Japanese food so we often went across the street to Tokyo Express to grab a bite to eat during lunch and share our life stories.  At a lunch outing, she said, "Ask me about my culture, about Iran."  I was taken aback at first, but I understood.  All of us have some pre-conceived notions about how a certain culture is.  Thinking of Iran, I imagine a woman shrouded in black with only slivers of her eyes showing a hint of self with a limited amount of freedom to walk around in public or interact with people of opposite sex.  Shadi told me that my assumption was not entirely wrong but that my notion of that woman's dress applies only to a small population of Iranian women who are a part of certain strict religious sector and my notion of the woman's freedom outdated.  Shadi explained that Iranian women are very educated, a majority attends universities, and they wore very colorful and beautiful dresses and veils but are not required to cover their faces.  She also relayed that Iranian women have more freedom, the country and its culture less restrict than in the years prior to 2000 (I based my assumption on a fiction book read 15 years ago, how naive!).  I treasured our lunch conversations.  Since last Friday was Shadi's last day at our company, I will sorely miss her beautiful, calm and enlightening personality.  One afternoon, I mentioned to her about my literary blog and found out that Shadi also had a blog she writes: http://hozche.blogspot.com/.  Taken from her blog, here is a poem written by Shadi, posting here with her blessing, so enjoy!

“A bird in love”

The one that blows your mind away,
The one that makes your heart play…

You cannot concentrate,
On a single thing you do,
You cannot participate,
In a single discussion you go through…

You hear his voice, his laugh and his words,
You see his face, his smile and his toes,
And you lose your mind, your body and your soul…

You want to become a bird to fly by his house,
You want to become wind to touch his hands,
You want to become water to kiss his lips,
You want to become a fallen leaf,
To feel his weight on your veins,
You want to just disappear,
And get reborn in his soul…

You wait and wait til’ he talks,
Wait and wait til’ he laughs,
Wait and wait til’ he goes,
Away and away and far away…

A “bird in love” sings and sings,
No one knows what she sings,
No one knows what she wants,
No one knows where she flies,

A “bird in love” sings and sings,
Until the day she dies….and dies…
That is the day she flies to skies.

And somewhere far,
Far and away,
where the wind blows,
where the water flows,
where the leaf rolls and rolls,
until it hits the grounds,
He walks and wonders,
what a lovely fall,
why the bird cries?

Before the Curtain Rose

Clenching of fists

Palms sweaty, a sticky mess

Clutching and wiping at softness, swooshing skirt

Beads of glassy dew pop on nose and brows
to nest there, steaming

Hairs standing on end at nape of the neck

Jaws tightening, teeth grinding, shaking

Is is time?

Feeling faint, hot, no cooling this

rising internal inferno, no stopping this

insistent knocking inside my chest

Ragged breaths tear at my throat

Is it time yet?

Coughs, clearing of throats, chattering

voices float away with a fluff of cloud

Velvety waterfall raises up to the sky

Revealing shadows in the near distance, then

Lights like multiple Suns shine brightly, birds chirping loudly

Music fills and spins my head around like sweet heady wine

Melting all away in a breathless delight, ecstasy

It's showtime!

Bike Love

I've been following my friend Meli's blog, http://bikesandthecity.blogspot.com/, for some time now.  Her love of bikes (and her love of coffee y boys) is infectious.  Not to mention that my fiance Travis commutes on his bike and is forever working on upgrading his bike parts.  Surrounded by endless bike talks and action, how could I not join in the fun?  The problem laid with my memory of a bike accident involving a car over 15 years ago in Berkeley.  I was hit by a car on a bike, albeit at a low speed, and I recall the driver getting out of the car to exclaim, "OMG, this is not my car!"  Gee, thanks, for asking if I was okay!  Luckily, I escaped this accident with few scratches and bruises but the mental trauma must have been great as I had not ridden a bike until recently.  So, in celebration of my new-found love of bike riding, please check out a blog post by Meli featuring me and my beloved bike (cameo appearance by Travis and his badass bike), <3 HJ

Link to the story:
With Love from Oakland ~Bikesandthecity.blogspot.com

Link to blog post by: http://bikesandthecity.blogspot.com/

Commuter Thought No. 1

One morning during my commute to work, I stood on a BART platform a few feet away from an escalator waiting to catch a train into San Francisco.   Swaying from side to side, I was lost in the hypnotic sounds of Brazilian Girls while playing Sudoku on my I-Touch.  I am a seriously committed multi-tasker.  A pair of Nike sneakers caught my attention and I looked up from my exciting game to find a middle-aged African American man standing in front of me wearing a baseball cap and a windbreaker thrown over a T-shirt.  He was talking and gesturing, seemingly unaware of my blank stare.  I took ear-buds off my ears and asked in an indulgent manner, "Can I help you?"  "Does this train go to San Francisco?  You see, I am trying to get to a limousine company at Fisherman's Wharf in the city and I wanna know if I can take the next train here."  Pointing to the BART train/schedule display panel, I replied, "The next train to San Francisco will arrive in 2 minutes.  I am taking that train and getting off at the station you need to get to, so you can follow me out when you see me get off."  Encouraged, the man replied, "Thank you.  I went up to two other ladies before you, but they didn't wanna hear what I got to say.  Both ladies told me, "Sorry, not today, I don't have any."  I was wondering what they were talking about.  I guess they thought I was panhandling or something."  I found myself shaking my head and exclaiming outrageously, "That is messed up!"  But deep down, I knew that I was guilty of this at some level.

I use my ear-buds as a shield against unwanted verbal contact with other fellow commuters or panhandlers.  If I am not reading, writing or playing games on I-Touch, I stare at the moving darkness beyond train windows to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.  When has commuting become such a detached, inhumane process?  Because of so many commuters pack into BART and so many peddlers line our streets, have we desensitized ourselves and passively avoid stranger's contracts?  The man needed a simple help, and instead, we let our perception and our misguided judgment rule our lives and we ignore his harmless request.  Us commuters are all busy people and we use public transportation system to get to where we need to go, but isn't commuting a major part of our lives? Are our lives not affected by our commute?  I recall a tap on my shoulder one morning as I was typing away a story I was writing on my I-Touch memo pad, totally unaware of my surroundings.  I looked up to see a lady's face and my gaze followed her pointed finger out a BART window to see a bright rainbow hanging across the sky over West Oakland station.  My face broke into a smile to match hers and we giggled at the beauty shared.  It was a special moment I might have missed had she not chosen to share with me.  I was grateful for her spirit and was touched by her generosity.  No matter where we are and what we are doing with our lives, please take a moment to breathe in and appreciate the beauty of people around you.  Lend a hand if you can, it only takes a second out of your busy life.  We are humans after all.

 ~Photo from DailyCal.org, courtesy of Alan Wong.

Mother

I remember her so clearly, hiding behind a bus stop
waiting for us to go inside my uncle's sushi restaurant,
her mother taking care of business, leaving me behind,
disregard for her wants and needs, just one simple reason,
want my daughter to marry a rich man, do not repeat
your mistakes again, get rid of what is between you and your
happiness, that child, HIS daughter.
That image of my mother haunts me to this very day, hiding
behind that bus stop sign, waiting, watching.