Ode on a Marble Statue

There he stood in all his glory,

stark naked before the world.

A smooth, round stone in his right hand,

resting on his thigh,

his left hand holding a sling 

slung over his shoulder,

as he looked out at his target,

a giant of a man, 

a stand-in for the enemy army. 

He was to avenge his nation,

a mere twelve-year old boy,

a toy by comparison. 

It took only one shot

from his sling to

the forehead, 

right between the eyes.

He landed in a thud

heard around the nation,

and the hero’s name meant 

beloved ~ David.

The statue stood on a pedestal,

larger than life, radiant

in pure, yet flawed marble.

I stood in awe among the crowd,

half-expecting he might step down,

so lifelike he appeared. 

I wondered if I struck that 

bulging vein in his hand 

if he might bleed. 

I fell in love with my namesake.

Outside the Academia,

I gathered a set of postcards

with various views 

around the marble marvel,

and then pored over the 

array of replica souvenirs

until I found one true to original.

Fifty-eight years later,

he still stands on my desk, 

stark naked 

in all his glory!

What Did You Say?

The first clue was waking and not hearing the tree frogs. 

I was in St. Kitts as a Peace Corps Volunteer at age sixty-two. The island nation was a tropical paradise for me, away from the wintry weather of the Pacific Northwest where I raised my family and lived in four Washington State cities.

My apartment in St. Kitts looked out onto the sea, and the huddled homes of the native population, descendants of slaves, freed from the brutal French and British colonials. A short walk took me into the capital city, where I’d enjoy the company of my peers in the local cafes. The harbor would be domineered by one or two monstrous hotels called cruise ships, disgorging their guests into the shops and restaurants. 

One of my favorite features of the environment was the sound of the tree frogs lulling me to sleep with their melodic chirping. Then, one night, I awoke and couldn’t hear them. The silence startled me, until I rolled onto my other side and now could hear them. What? Oh, my, this must be why my kids are constantly telling me to get my hearing checked. My right ear can’t hear the tree frogs. 

When I returned home, I sold my house to my best friend, which enabled me to buy my first hearing aid. When I put it in my ear, I burst into tears – I couldn’t believe it. Sadly, I could only afford one at that time. I would wait three years until I sold my condo to buy the second one. Did you hear me – I had to sell my homes before I could hear! That was 19 years ago, and since then, I have purchased three more sets, each one upgraded in quality and reduced in cost over the years. 

Ironically, as miraculous as the transformation of my hearing is, I still ask people to repeat themselves – what did you say? You see, the aids help me to hear, but not always to understand. The issue is the difference between sound and word recognition. I have what I call “creative hearing” – you say what you mean, I hear what I wean. And here is the real deafness: loss of word recognition cannot be remedied with hearing aids. I have 40% word recognition in my right ear, 70% in my left.

Another discovery occurred while at lunch with a friend. As she spoke, she had her hands in front of her mouth, and I went deaf. I asked her if she would please lower her hands, and I realized I was now reading lips. I should say we all do, we just don’t know that until it is essential to communication. If I can’t see your face, I can’t understand what you are saying. 

Hearing aids are a hazard in a group. Now the messages are coming from cross-talk conversations, resulting in laughter at times, but leaving me at a loss for the joke. The frustration at the family table would sometimes require I retire to the living room. Hearing loss puts everyone to work, as I struggle to understand, as you are asked to repeat yourself for my sake. It is easier to excuse myself from the situation. Sometimes in tears.

Fortunately, I spent my college years as a monk, so I know how to be alone, to enjoy reading, listening to music, staying in touch online. Earbuds are a godsend when on the phone or FaceTime. Also fortunately, being alone is not the same as loneliness – I am quite content in silence and solitude, now in the tropical paradise of Chacala, awakening to the brash honking of a flock of chacalacas!  

Thanks for listening  

Chacalaca (squawks!)

Coqui Tree Grog (whistles)

Moon Mountain

— WORD FOR THE DAY —
Many paths lead from the foot of the mountain,

but at the peak we all gaze at the single bright moon.

IKKYU

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_Hill

Today’s email “Word for the Day” took me back to one of the most memorable experiences in my three-week tour of China in 2007. Not far from the exotic city of Yangshou, this extraordinary mountain looms in the sky as an irresistible invitation to climb it.

Fortunately, American mountaineers built multiple stone step pathways around the base that meander through the forest, gradually revealing the stunning karst hills in the landscape below. These reminded me of the cone-shaped formations along the eastern Cascades in Oregon, USA. 

Hiking around 800 steps, alongside lovely water and snack vendors who traverse this arduous path all day long, you reach the base of the former opening to a cave. I just found one of the many photos I took there in 2007. 

Sometime later, during a meditation, I thought about the many paths to Moon Mountain as a metaphor for the multiple religions that purport to take us to spiritual heights, enlightenment, heaven. There are many paths, each with its own features, inspirations and challenges, but ultimately, when we reach the summit, we are all in the same place!