From Sushi King to Late Night Maggi Goreng!

 

Eating at Sushi King with my daughter just before she sent me to the bus station to head for Terengganu. The almost eight hours bus ride at night can be very tedious and hard on the body especially at m tender age. Only one toilet stop and so I carry with me my 'pee bottle' just in case. So no heavy meals like nasi Kandar before the trip.

The real eating takes place at the wedding the day after and ate I did.

One of my nieces came with her family and I remarked looking at the baby she was carrying that she and her husband are very productive when it comes to making babies. She laughed at me and said, this is my grandson and that makes him your great grandson! Great!

Sumayah my grand niece, Mohammad Rafi the bakery owner's youngest daughter was always on my case for this or that but she was the smartest of all and too smart for her own good. I love getting to know the young and teasing them and getting into their heads has been one of my past time. "Hey, your dad is thinking of marrying you off to a Bangla, so why bother studying so hard la!"

The closest i came to South China Sea on this trip was visiting my twin brother whose house sits right on the beach. He and his wife were busy with customers looking my sister in law's Songket and so we did not talk much and in a way I was glad as I had no desire to have any prolong conversation with them after my last visit to their home which ended with yet another slam dunk I had to endure from my twin brother. However Islam says one has to keep the Silaturahim, close relationship between siblings intact and so my super short visit...see you when I see you, perhaps not in the ICU.

                              Having fried noodles at three in the morning at a roadside in KTr.

Eating MaggiMee Goreng at the roadside restaurant at three in the morning with my niece who owns the place called Masakan Panas Lewat Malam or Hot Food for Late at Night at Telaga Batin. Kuala Terengganu. This was the night or morning before I left for Penang. The Maggi was fried by my Niece who was at the wedding with her grandchild, my great grandchild - this is for Na! and Stopa! a lovely couple.Jaya my second eldest brother would have been proud of his favorite daughter.

                                                        Her restaurant - Late Night Hot Dishes.

What have become of Awi's Yellow House. {Rumah Kuning Aboh}.

 

Dropped by to check on what was going on at one of my favorite haunts in the old days, Awi's Yellow House or Rumah Kuning in Malay on Pulau Duyong. Awi's younger brother was there by his home  and we sat and chat over black coffee. So what happened? I asked  thumbing the background of what was once the iconic guest house that sits on the banks of the Terengganu River. Again the Devil is in the details and in short Wan Kaya, Awi's brother quoted my late friend's son in law, " The place can only be rejuvenated to its old glory when the present owner is not around anymore." #rumahkuning #

This was what Awi's yellow House used to look like  in its hay days when I was frequenting the place as my port hanging out and getting stoned with my late friend Awi or better known as Aboh among the locals especially the kids. Together we varnished the whole exterior of the chalets for lack of better things to do when we were high. Awi, anyone who had known him was a character! He practically built the whole place from the river up and to me it was a Work of Art. 

Reviewed 17 Oct 2014

I am 73 yrs and have been backpacking malaysia for 4 months and Awi and his Yellow House was the most enjoable stay I had. Awi with excellent English is a treat in himself.
The place is totally different.It is on stilts in the river and the water laps under your room. A shower and SIT DOWN toilet in each room. Mosqito nets cover the large double bed but I did not use them. River traffic goes by your balcony when you have time to relax there. There is a canoe you can use to explore or go to town if you must as well as a bycycle to borrow no charge. Awi is a wealth of knowledge on any subject A large kitchen is there for your use
One guy had been there for 2 months. Awi's is different and if you do not like little lizards go elsewhere. To me it was a breath of fresh air after the poky rooms I can afford with no windows and those toilets where you must wet your trousers. ENJOY AWIS!!!.

Date of stay: October 2014

Sitting on the banks of the Terengganu river, Awi's Yellow House is located in a quiet kampung village among a community of boat builders. Insects are found all over the area along with otters and mullets just below the boardwalks of the mangrove area where it is located. The chalets are cheap and simple with basic amenities. You gain the unique experience of living how it was like in the past: no air conditioning, mosquito nets over beds, a wooden stilt house and the smell of fish paste in the air. #trengganuriver #

Today and the way it was yesterday, it is as though the place died with it creator.

What was and what is, is the epitome of what I always observed as a weakness among Malaysians when it comes to keeping up an already existing structure especially one of scenic beauty like this. Look around and notice what it is like when buildings are left to rot when not well maintained and this is common especially in cities. 

Of the whole Island of Pulau Duyong this location has one of the most well visited as an iconic site as it is also located next to the traditional boat building facility. 

Awi is a boat builder who’s lived in Pulau Duyung all his life. He and his wife, Christine Rohani Longuet met when she ventured from her hometown of Paris to visit Pulau Duyong and learn to build boats from the craftsmen on this island. Many decades later, they both run a guesthouse which is revered by many tourists as a memorable destination: Awi's Yellow House...Gokayu.

Note; Awi was no boat builder not that I know of, he putts around with the boats he owned but he never was a builder.

 

Guests to this unique venue were usually older and those who were seasoned travelers and they came from all walks of life and from all over the world. Some stayed on for as long as they could, months and even years. 

May The Yellow House rest in peace just like the owner and builder wherever he is now.

                                            Awi during the few years before he departed 

Terengganu -part 5

 

There I was sitting right in the middle of the street eating my favorite Terengganu treat, the Keropok Lekor, something like a fried fish sausage. This took place on one of the water front food walk where all kinds of delicacies are sold from stalls. The feeling I had while eating in the middle of the street was that at my age who cares of what people may think of my actions as i was hungry and tired of walking and i just needed to step out of the 'act proper' while in public conditioning, in other words just chill as the younger generations today would have it.

 

A time out for the guests who drove from Penang to attend the wedding among them including Pok Pi's brothers and his former colleagues at the 'Jabatan Laut' in Penang. Most are retired and the trip they have made was also to enjoy a get together of old work buddies. The whole group of elderly gentlemen had practically stayed up all night long getting stoned and shooting the breeze swapping wild tales at the 'rental' Homestay facility where they had all put up including yours truly. It was good to feel young and crazy every now and then. 

They gathered the day after the wedding at Pok Pi's restaurant 'The Kopitiam" where a few of my paintings still hangs on the walls. Pok Pi lives upstairs from the restaurant and when it was open for business his jjob was to make the 'Roti Canai' of which he has now become an expert at 'throwing' the roti which is like a pancake when it is done. He accomplished this simply through watching it done on You Tube and getting tips here and there from those who have been doing it. 

Rubina my niece was the most warm and caring person that had made my stay in Terengganu more comfortable than I could have hoped for. Her hospitality was exemplary and heart warming as she made sure i had enough to eat and did my laundry despite her busy full day activity making sure that everyone of her children were taken care of and putting up with a husband who has begun to show signs of depressions from his physical ailments. I have nothing but pure love and admiration towards her and was inspired by her unconditional love towards all around her. 

Norashikin's wedding came and went and I was able to be a part of this merry moments sharing the happiness of one who at one time was but a little girl shy and sweet. Today she is a woman married and on the way to starting her own life away from her parents for the first time. All the best wishes to her and her spouse and may they live a happy life.
 

Terengganu - part 4 - the AUR Studio

 

On this trip to Kuala Terengganu one of the pleasant experience was meeting a fellow artist who has a studio at the Pulau Duyong Astaka or Food Court. His name is Taib Our and he  was originally from Taiping, Perak. Taib is a very talented and professional artist on the way to becoming a member of the who is who in the Malaysian Art Circle, he is just waiting to be officially discovered. ##pulauduyong #taibaur

One rarely finds rich Malays who are Patrons of the Arts like the Chinese. Although most Malays appreciate art and are mostly inclined towards being receptive towards the creative process of life, it is rare to find those who has the means to become financial supports towards the plight of artists and their needs to survive and thus it is not a common thing to find artist who are dependent upon their works to stay afloat.  

Making connections for people through chance meeting gives me great pleasure as I watch and listen to them sharing their differences in how they make their living and their ups and down in treading this path that we call life. Here folks from the west coast who came for the wedding got a chance to meet got to know a Bonafede Artist with a humble beginning.

One Taib's water color painting that caught my eye is the one done of Awie's Yellow House which to me captured the essence of the place that my late friend Awie had left behind as his legacy on Pulau Duyong. Today this legacy has been swept away by neglect and the Yellow House is left in shambles. #awiyellowhpuse

It was my hope that by introducing these folks that they would learn to appreciate the diversities of life and the beauty of the creative spirit in all and what we do. Malaysian educational system has pushed  the Arts Discipline into the corner in most schools citing that it is a frivolous endeavor and a waste of fundings and only those in the right places such as colleges and Universities arts department and those with 'good' connections gets the opportunity to explore and exploit the artistic field. I felt bein choked and strangled in my creativity by those who I trusted and looked up to and will never cater to the Malaysian Art Scene. I stopped being creative to my fullest potential ever since I returned to this country and Japan was my last field of creative dreams. 

Terengganu -Part 3 - The wet market

 

I tagged along with my niece Rubina and nephew Farouq to the Fish market one morning just to have a taste of the 'Pasar scene" which I love to do from an early age. I enjoy the sights and smells of fish and various other items that were a feast in itself to the senses. One of the fondest memeries i have with my grandmother was going to the market on Kuantan Road, in Georgetown, Penang.

It is for me a habit to immerse myself into the environment and absorb whatever that it has to offer. It used to be to settle my curiosity when I was a kid but as I got older it is more like recollecting the sights and scenes that one often take for granted growing old and visiting these places becomes a chore than an adventure.

This was at the Pasar Cabang Tiga in Kuala Terengganu where my Niece does most of her shopping and as you walk along behind her you notice that she is no stranger to the Fish mongers and vegetable sellers. 

This morning my niece was looking for a special kind of fish called Ikan Patin, a type of rive or fresh water fish highly sought after for its unique taste and texture. This when cooked with fermented Durian, or the King of Fruit is a delicacy, one of my favorite dishes and Rubina has mastered the preparation of this dish.

Life is a boredom if you allow it to be so, however with a little effort and enthusiasm one can turn a boring day into one that is memorable for the rest of you life, your choice; this is free will.

Terengganu -part 2 - The wedding.

 My intention for going to Kuala Terengganu was primarily to attend a wedding of Nurashikin Mohd. Rafi daughter of my closed friend Mohd. Rafi or better known among friends as PokPi and not related to my nephew who is also Mohd. Rafi. I met Pok Pi sometime in 1998-99 when i was visiting Awie's Yellow House in Pulau Duyong. We hit off together because he was originally from Penang and speaks very Penang Malay like and with the same Penang Malay sense of humor. Pok Pi was transferred to Terengganu from Penang while he was in the Jabatan Laut or Maritime Services where he met and fell head over heels in love with a local and settled down for good and the rest is history as written many times in this Blog if one cares to reflect in retrospect. There are those in one's life that is valued much more than one's own flesh and blood as a brother and Pok Pi is one of those to me and thus I made the arduous bus trip to Terengganu to be at the wedding like I did when his first and second children were married in the past. I had watched these kids grew into adulthood before my eyes as such it makes much more intimate for our connections in life. 

The gentleman in the orange 'Malay Baju' standing behind is Mohammad Rafi or better known as Pok Pi among close friends and standing beside him is his son in law, Beyo. Sitting beside me is Pok Pi's younger brother Sham who travled from Penang to be at the wedding.  

Left to right- my nephew Farouq, his Mom, Rubina, his younger sister Sarah and Sumayah who accompanied me to the wedding.

A shot with the happily wedded couple.

Pok Pi's family, the two young boys standing to my right are his sons the remaining pain in his butt, Epi and Munir. Pok Pi's wife and his daughter Faziera and her husband Beyo standing on the right in the picture. I watched them grew up from little kids when I first met Mohammad Rafi and they all call me 'Sir' as they were at one time my English class students.

Me playing my role as the 'Godfather'. This is what i understand to be what the Muslim calls, SiratulRahim, relationship or the ties of Love and Brotherhood that must never be severed but fostered as best we can.  Life is what you make it to be, as colorful and interesting or as boring and painful as hell, your choice and free will. 

My trip to the East Coast. - part 1

 I had taken a week off to attend a wedding and visit my siblings in the East Coast state of Terengganu and the bus ride both ways to and from was brutal on this aging body. However it was well worth it even though with no transportation of my own while being there  was a handicap I was able to cover all bases as far getting all that I had intended fulfilled. I mostly stayed home with my nephew and his children at the bakery shop. Mohammad Rafi bin Israil, my nephew and his wife were most accommodating towards my being a guest a their home despite the daily routine they themselves has to go through with their daily lives with taking care of their children and running a bakery / mini market. I got to experience what it was like being a part of their lives for a week and it was no Sunday picnic. My nephew as I might have written  in the past is the one who suffers from a a gangrene type of wound on both sides of his legs at the ankle that never seems to heal for over thirty years of his adult life. He has been to all kinds of hospitals and traditional healing places even to India to find a cure but no such luck. Being a very devoted Muslim and having a great intellectual mind perhaps kept him going and not loose hope. Every night i watched him remove the bandages and wash his wounds that looked like some monstrous virus had eaten away most of the flesh and expose the bone on his leg, and it is beyond me to imagine his suffering after all these years. Rafi is the oldest among all my nephews and nieces and I used to carry him around when he was a baby.

Perhaps it was destined that i was to stay with this family whose father, my brother in law died practically under my watch and the third son died in the most sorry state from drug addiction and the youngest boy died from a motorcycle accident and I was at the hospital on both occasions to claim their deceased bodies. Yes on looking back I did have a very close psycho/emotional ties with my nephew's family and circumstances would have it, am still forced to bear witness as to how they have faired over the years. Rafi and his wife has six children, two boys and four girls. The eldest girls is now an architect while the next boy will inherit the bakery business, one of the older girls is on the way to becoming a lawyer while the next boy is jumping from one job to another and the last two girls are still in school. Briefly speaking Rafi has a close knit family from what i experience having spent a week at their home and closely observing their lives from morning till time for bed. The odd thing about the family is that they are very healthy when it comes to the spiritual side of life but almost all suffer from one form of ailment or another that warrant visits to the hospital every so often. With Rafi and his gangrenous legs and lately affections in his eyes, to his wife who had abdominal operations for one reason or another and their son Farouq who has abdominal problem including stomach bleeding, and the then there is the eldest daughter with a torn ligament in her leg and the list goes on. 

I spent most of my time listening to Rafi's wife Rubina who loves to talk about anything and everything and cared for me like I am her own father. I followed her to the market where just about everyone of the sellers would greet her like she is one of their relative giving her special attention more so than other customers. Rubina was originally from Islamabad and was married to Rafi at a young age and she is a very beautiful lady with a charm and wit about her that is genuine and sincere. The most attractive character about her is that she is a great chef especially cooking the Indian dishes that is my favorite and she is obsessed with making sure that I eat well when I am living under her roof. Despite their shortcomings when it comes to physical ailments, Rubina exudes a life of love and care that makes it all natural, the good and the bad that life has to offer. As for my nephew, Allah {awj} has given him a jewel of a lady for a wife whether he realize it or not and this gift I feel almost makes up for his suffering in this life. Along with this bounty Rafi also inherited from his father the bakery among other properties that helps to keep the family afloat. Adding to this is the fact that Rafi has a younger brother who is very well to do financially as he has a successful career and is ever ready to help his elder brother out in times of need.

Almost every time i visited Kuala Terengganu if only by myself i would stay with Rafi's family even though I have many other places that i could choose to stay with among my siblings. I would sleep on a narrow sofa not the most comfortable and i would sit and meditate almost throughout the night which was fine with me. I find peace amidst all the discord of life that revolves around me and allow myself to intervene only if and when I felt the need to with what is happening around me. When you sleep in some one's living room you learn to create your own privacy by submerging within and finding that space within where no one can impose their presence upon you; this is when meditation comes in handy.      

JJ Security Services Inc. Green Bay, Wisc.

Sometime in 1980 while a student at the University of Wisconsin, Green Bay I had a part time job as a security guard for a firm called JJ Security Services Inc. and was stationed at several location in and around the GB area including a crane construction facility called Northwest Engineering where they built cranes from A-Z. I found out that they used to build Sherman Tanks at this facility during the second world war.  Part of my responsibility was to walk the rounds every two hours punching the clock at every single station where a key is located throughout the facility which took two hours as the facility was vast and wide spread, for every round. It was a very tedious job but i loved it as I had the whole place to myself and my partner who was an elderly Canadian originally by the name of Vincent Kehoe. Vincent was in his fifties and except for his uniform was like a homeless person or even a drunk as he was always unkempt and looked like he never had a bath. But I enjoyed his company even though we kept to ourselves pretty much as he knew i was student and always buried my face in my books when I was not making my rounds.

While working at this site i had kept an on going journal which I am now sharing here because it seemed to call out to me from the shelf to be made open to the public for whatever it is worth. This sketchbook that is over thirty years old evoke memories of a time when I was living in what i called 'basements and boxes', almost but not quite a homeless person.

Here from the pages of the journal I have shared what i had written at times  in the dead of the Wisconsin winter nights. My intention is to show that i had been on the journey to find out most of my life and what i have been sharing in this Blog is not the fruit of yesterday's thoughts but a long progression since i was in college; since i had a realization that I needed change in my life. 

" What is beyond pain and pleasure, good and evil. The dreams are but the same. The solitary Japanese house by the eternal ocean of peace and tranquility - or the slick Corvette driven by a beautiful chick- a clumps of bamboo poetries or walking down Pearl Street, semi-dazed in deep revery with a Time Clock hanging round your neck - cloud filled sky and mornings bone by - we pursue this dream among dreams - this thirst for life endless eternal life - 

What does it matter where or when you came to be - or how and what you should have been - I am here, I am as you read me - we come to be -

What does it matter if we were of long ago distant friends whose path had greeted each other on a busy junction - We have never parted and never will - we are each other's keepers in this fabulous dream world of Maya -

I am your guide as much as you are mine - hand in hand we grope through the slick and slime of life - Hand in hand we will approach the throne of Nirvana - 

So on we go - heavy footed dragging behind us the wheel of life - loaded with a wagon full of mirth and laughter, anger and pain - our bodies once young and vigorous festered with arthritis and migraine headaches - older but perhaps a little wiser - we sing old songs to comfort those that come after us - that they who have just arrived after us may come to know the wisdom that is eternal - like those before us whose martyrdom had brought us here - we will serve with little miracles as those that were before them  -Like scattered clouds all of us passes through this ever changing life - yet knowing somewhere in the recesses of our dreams everything is the 'Unchange' - everything is but a mirror of itself - for the clouds though scattered are but of one element and the blue sky is but empty space - for all we know we are but passing clouds while clouds and and blue skies are a permanent scene - like an old church in the middle of a desert - its priest screaming bloody murder for rain to come all in the name of belief and faith - so let us dream my brothers - you of your corvettes and beautiful garbage carts - me and my idiotic crave for wisdom - together we will outshine the Universe in perfect unity." -  Written sometime in August of 1980 at the Northwest Engineering facility in Green Bay, Wisc.

"The minute we apply a glimmer of consciousness to a mechanical gesture, or practice a piece of phenomenology while polishing a piece of old furniture, we sense a new impression comes into being beneath the familiar domestic duty. For consciousness rejuvenates everything, giving a quality of beginning to the most everyday actions. It even dominates memory. How wonderful it is to really become once more the inventor of a mechanical action."

                                                                                        Poetics of Space - Gaston Bachilard.

                                                                                        8/1/80 -GB, Wisc.

The Poetics of Space (French: La Poétique de l'Espace) is a 1958 book about architecture by the French philosopher Gaston Bachelard. The book is considered an important work about art. Commentators have compared Bachelard's views to those of the philosopher Martin Heidegger. - Wikipediae

I realize today that most of what i had written back then makes little if no sense at all, however what I am sharing with is the fact that my thoughts were aimed at looking for spiritual truths whatever that entails even way back when. I was back then having been divorced and lost the custody of my first born son, was on the way to becoming a drug addict and a drunk if it had not been for the chance to go to college. 

"Wisdom begins with the dawn of Reason and reason is but an understanding of the Knowledge and Principles whereby we may know the true meaning of things. Wisdom is then the Illuminated Reason and this wisdom leads to Humility for Humility is a large part of Wisdom." -

 "The Master Key," by Charles F. Haanel.

A quote found on the last page of the Journal. -8/8/80.

 

  

Reflections at a gravesite.

 Two nights ago I was at the Muslim cemetery at Dato' Keramat where most of my ancestors were laid to rest and if i am lucky i might just join them there squeezed one on top of another for lack of space. I was there at about 9;30pam till about eleven waiting for the deceased to be laid to rest and it rained after a while. I was there to pay my last respect to a 98 years old lady who happened to be the mother of the first childhood love of my life. Till this day I still am not sure if I am fortunate or otherwise that things did not work out between us. The only sad thing out of this is that till this day she has not married and had lived a life of servitude to the family who had adopted her but i am glad that she had live a good life as far as the material is concern. I have rarely if not ever written this most beautiful and often amorous side of my childhood life and would rather leave it at that, something only the two of us share an unforgettable memory of what an innocent and pure love was like. 

I stood on the rain holding and umbrella over the young Imam who was reciting the 'Talkin' or the final instructions to the dead and reminder to the living present at the grave site. I absorbed every word that the Imam was saying out loud in my ears and reflected my circumstances, like what would happen when I die. Where would they squeeze my dead body into, would I be laid to rest on top of a total stranger among people who I had never known before? Does it matter? I am dead anyway! I looked around me in the dark and noticed that most of the graves in the vicinity were well cared for with concrete walls and proper if not expensive gravestones. While waiting for the deceased to arrive at the grave site I had sat and listened to the grave diggers' stories about the state of the burial site and the whole religious thing about the difference between and the Shia and the rest of the Muslim sect when it comes to the burial of the dead. It was most fascinating if not thought provoking to hear it from the horse's mouth. The Shia sect has their own separate grave site from the rest of the other Muslim sects and no one that is not a Shia follower is allowed to perform the final burial rite. The Caretaker can only prepare the ground and later add to the finishing touches; This is Islam! My naive question has always been how could Allah {awj} has allowed this to happen and how come the Prophet of Allah {Peace be upon Him} failed to foresee this before His death. The essence of the Religion of Islam is in Unity and yet the irony prevails that the Shia and the rest of the Muslims are still killing each other at the slightest friction. From the days of the Prophet of Allah till today no significant attempt has been made to reconcile the differences between the 'Mazhabs' or sects in the religion. Do we who professes ourselves to be Muslims have to answer before Allah {awj} on Judgement Day? Like do we have to answer why we allowed the children of Gaza to perish by the thousands right before our eyes? Our excuse is that we are afraid of the nuclear bombs that would eventually be used against us if push comes to shove; we are not afraid of the wrath of Allah in the afterlife?

WallahuAllam, only God knows and the Devil is in the details.

" Some said, one person can't change the world, A person with a message is capable of changing the world" - Willie Nelson, on 'Letting Go'.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that one of my favorites, Willie Nelson is not only a great musician but also pretty out there when it comes to a more spiritual take on life. Like most of the ideas and thoughts that i relate to in my writing, I stumbled upon this fact when I was browsing the You Tube and came upon the podcast where Willie was interviewed about his philosophy on life. In essence 'Be here Now' is the core of Willie's take on his life, letting go of the past and not entertaining the future. Willie nelson has always been one of my favorite musician with a character of his own.

Nothing last forever- keep it well while it last.- Maintain.

 

When you can lug a 5lb. bag or rice and walk around town like a Mafia Don at 75, I think you are doing fine.

The world may be falling apart all around you but you have to stay focus and true to your calling and grocery shopping is part of the plan.

Your closest and loyal friend will always be your cat or whatever pet you have, treat them well.

My mother's only advice to me was never to save money when it comes to eating. I love my lambchops! 

I was rarely a tourist in my life, I lived life wherever i was. 3 years in Sendai.

 

The Warlord or Daimyo Date Masamune was also known as the One Eyed Lord who lost his eye to an arrow while in battle. His residence while Sendai was the Aoba Castle the site from which this drawing was done, now overlooking the City of Sendai from across the Hirose river.  

Date Masamune (伊達 政宗, September 5, 1567 – June 27, 1636) was a regional ruler of Japan's Azuchi–Momoyama period through early Edo period. Heir to a long line of powerful daimyō in the Tōhoku region, he went on to found the modern-day city of Sendai. An outstanding tactician, he was made all the more iconic for his missing eye, as Masamune was often called dokuganryū (独眼竜), or the "One-Eyed Dragon of Ōshū".^[1] As a legendary warrior and leader, Masamune is a character in a number of Japanese period dramas.

The dragon is a mystical creature that is commonly found flying around in the imaginations of most rural Japanese folks especially those living in the mountain temples of the Dewa Sanzen or the Thrree mountains of Haguro. This drawing was done from a 400 year old wooden sculpture hidden in the wall of a temple door. 

Have you ever heard of Matsu Basho, the Japanese Poet a Haiku master, Mystique and Traveler monk who roamed the countryside of Japan visiting the most talked about exciting places in the Tohoku Region of Honshu Island of Japan. I tried to follow in his footsteps when I had the chance to visit places while living for three years in Sendai, Japan. Basho was here at one time standing on these footsteps and uttering his haiku and written down by his travelling companion, of the Mystical Mount Haguro.

Matsuo Basho* in 1694 described Haguro as filled with miraculous inspiration and sacred awe. We can add to this the feeling of a strong sense of history, rooted in spiritual and religious beliefs lasting well over 1,000 years. Little can beat walking on steps constructed in 1648 that took 13 years to complete.

                                               Spring Sakura Festival at local parks.

We are all waiting for that moment of Satori to happen just to lighten up what is otherwise a mundane existence. There is no glory nor defeat there is only doing or not doing, being or not being, there is only an act. Choose your poison or your elixir and  live this life a moment at a time if you cannot live a breath at a time. Kampai!!! Cheers! 

IN Honor of two Great Artists.

 

John Marcellus Huston was an American film director, screenwriter and actor. He wrote the screenplays for most of the 37 feature films he directed, many of which are today considered classics. 

Wikipedia

" I prefer to think that God is not dead, just drunk."

He reminds me of my grandfather in all his appetence and manners and even his appearance is somewhat similar to that of my late grandfather, Paul Mariano aka Abu Talib bin Abdullah after his conversion to Islam after marrying my late grandmother, Zainab Benti Hussein in Deli, Sumatra, Indonesia. To me he was a Great Artist my idol, ever since   I was made to clean his spittoon. a large can filled with red spittle and whatever else that is disgusting to even look at, almost every day, I was his masseuse and i had to make sure his rabbits gets their food...yes the devil is indeed in the details. Be as it may, he to me is was one hell of an artist and has landmark legacy to his memory. I have related this story in the past but if you are following the dotted line then you can search the backlogs of this Blog. You might be curious enough to know what ethnic name is Paul Mariano? Portuguese? Spanish? Italian, perhaps?  That is if it matters to you - it's Ceylonese, or Sri Lankan that was where my grand father was from and that is all i know. 

Who was my Grandmother? this is what i have always wanted to find out but i know today it is too late to make anymore trips to find out and it is not cheap and easy as it used to be. I did try however and i got as far as the Palace  it was said that my grandfather spent allot of his time with the the then Sultan who was his drinking buddy. I was sure not to ask this when I talked to the palace man at the counter but I felt the air where my Grandfather must have walked or wobbled his way to and fro. Only a great artist would have pulled it off especially in Medan, Sumatra, Indonesia, a very Muslim country. My grandfather charmed his way into the Royal court when he married my grandmother, said to be a cousin of the Sultan in Medan. My grandmother was from  a small province called Deli and it it said that the purest of Malay Muslims were from Deli compared to the rest of the Nusantara or Malay Archipelago.

She was tall and very fair, soft and elegant was my memory of her and she was very pious. 

My grandma was the central pillar in the home I grew up in and everyone served her with love and respect, all young and old, they say she something about her, from the old country. My late Auntie once told of her experience in being tested by my grandmother with having a tiger laying on the doorsteps of the house to stop my auntie in her tracks and leave the house. I definitely believed in just about every story when it came to the supernatural, the myth and the magic, as a kid I was always all ears, I would cling on to every word and often fell asleep while at it; my mind as a child was already asking and wanting to know what is beyond, what is the unseen. I must say that in my entire life thus far i have had my share of the super and no so super natural phenomenon, a few of which still confounds me and my intelligence. 

My ancestorial past I think can be very deep rooted heritage of two Cultures and Religious strains of human genetics, two Royal Blood lineage that has run through the history of both Indonesia and Sri Lanka and I am the unfortunate end product, Such Is! Am i making all these up? Perhaps, then again what have I to gain or loose at coloring my ancestorial history tree a little more flair and sophistication, no Sir! I am envious of my own lineage, couldn't ask for better, I am a prince of the house of Deli by the Birthright of my Grandmother. I claim my title what the heck! Why not?! I know i have deep roots, rich in culture and religion, I have been born into a household of infinite possibilities, where anything and everything was and perhaps still is possible. If my ego has anything to say about this I will surely take actions towards claiming my share of the present throne of of Deli, why not? It would make for a hell of a long running series would it not? Yeah right! Anything is Possible when you think you got it all together even if it were not true in essence . what is truth you say, but what my mind thinks it to be, what my mind perceives and manifest according to its taste and style. There comes a moment when truth blends into the untruth overlapping one another and in the end becomes one whole new truth. This is not unlike the Ying and yang or Cosmic Symbol of evolution from one extreme into another and the seed of each opposite is eternally planted within each opposite, I don't know if it makes sense to you you but I feel best not to get dragged into what i don't any idea about and regret. For those who are still in essence 'seeking' all i can say is keep connecting those dots and find your way to the truth, or what is the Real.

Most people never have to face the fact that at the right time and the right place they're capable of anything.

John Huston. 

Your Way is my way is your Way and we will get there.

 According to the Stats that keeps count on my performance as a a Blogger, which i never failed to look up first thing when I log on to my Blog; yes it is all an ego trip! I realized this a long time ago but felt the effort is well worth it even if only five reads from yesterday and 0 from the day before. Well which way shall i take off, the Muslim, Islam way or the Buddhist, Buddha's way? Or shall I view the answer from the perspective of the Advaita Vendanta teachings from the Vedic Scriptures; Tat Tvam Asi or That I Am. I, who am I? Who is making this attempt at telling yet another tale from the attic or the crypt or from Green Bay , Wisconsin or the Tales from Aleutian Chains, How do I see myself thus far in my life and this is the real moment of truth in revelation of who or what is this entity that is making these comments on to the open book of life itself; I am That I Am! Upon His Enlightenment the Buddha, is said to have said, "I Am Awakened! and The Universe Awakens with me!" and pointing His right  He said, " None above nor below, I Am the Awakened One.": Remember the Historical Buddha was just an ordinary man, a prince maybe but still just a man and He set about the turning of the Wheel of Dharma in this Realm of our human existence in the Nirmanakaya Loka, this realm of mental formations of forms and emptiness, light and darkness, Good and Bad and so on, this what is commonly known as the Dual Thinking Mind. The Historical Buddha, Shakyamuni Buddha broke the chains of Karma and liberated Himself from the claws of Ignorance and being trapped in the life of a mind created/projected illusion.

Nirmāṇakāya (Chinese: 應身; pinyin: yīngshēn; Tibetan: སྤྲུལ་སྐུ་, tulku, Wylie: sprul sku) is the third aspect of the trikāya and the physical manifestation of a Buddha in time and space. In Vajrayāna it is described as "the dimension of ceaseless manifestation." 

Wikipedia.

But, I have joined one club too many in my life and one or two demands that i see through my vows and promises made in a form of prayers made, and one of these is the Bodhisattva Vows ; something I intend to keep as my personal practice in this life. My very lifestyle will be a testimony to how i have chosen to navigate through these waters, I surrender my every move to that which governs the whole realm of this existence, to God, to Allah{AWJ} or to the Supreme Unbounded State of Consciousness. I can understand all that it takes to make it happen in the cause of this lifetime, but I am still a man lost in his own shadows sometimes and not having a clue as to the where or what is at stake here in this cycle of life, death and rebirth: all these Buddhist stuff sometimes gets to me and I have to slow down and rewind so that I am not attached to any one 'Way". The Ways are as many as there are those who walk them and everyone ends up at the same destination in the end. The best Way is to is 'your way', whatever or however you manage it, find your own way and and perhaps be able to sing Frank Sinatra's version of "I did It My Way..." To touch life without getting attached to it, to taste wine without getting drunk, to feel love and not feel sad about it, all these are feelings and perceptions that the mind manifest from itself. Yet, I am Not the mind, nor am I the body. I am perhaps what is called the formless form, the real behind the false, I am That, I Am. The eternal, the never ending nor beginning, the timeless spaceless Supreme Undifferentiated Consciousness ; I can dream can't I? 

Words! More words as you get older to describe the simplest of things, just to keep the mind from getting bored and falling asleep, how many naps can one take in a day without making it official that it is time for you to take that final nap and never to wake up. However life goes on with or without me, I know this cause i have lived long enough to see my friends gone and new babies arriving from all round me and the world is rolling freely towards its self destruction gathering momentum thanks to humans who see life as an asset worth the price of a bullet or even less. Yes life goes on within and without me too and I notice the details growing more and more clearly as there is much else to do except to watch for the Devils in the details.  I am guilty of being lost in words and addicted to writing and I am feeling quite content to be staying up till the early morning lights while i keep letting my fingers tap on the key board and while I am listening to Enigma MCMXD a.d. on the earphones. This is one way I entertain myself especially when I cannot fall asleep tried as I had. And so I am now "Taking it back to the Rivers of Belief..."  

Wounded Hearts Club Band - Shunyamurti.

 The past few days have been a bit strange for me, mentally and physically. I have been feeling sluggish and easily tired out and wanting to hit the bed for naps. Nothing wrong except I do not feel one hundred percent me, I felt like being under the negative external influence has attached itself to me, perhaps with not ill intention or perhaps with all the intention of shifting my attention away from my spiritual path. I am aware of this shift and am mindful that i do not succumb to its negative energy and loose my footing and find myself right where i began, slip sliding on my ass down the muddy road towards damnation. Call it paranoia, call it obsession, call it ignorance, call it what you may, I like my path, I enjoy taking these strolls down and up the highway of life and find myself sometimes in the most sad of situations and yet at other time the best of times life can afford to offer. I am grateful for all that I have been offered, the grace that I have been showered now and again by my Lord, I am grateful for all the cures and protections I have felt along the way, for only the Divine in me could have written this, the story of my life. It may not be much of a story compared to many, none the less, it has a beginning and will have an end sooner than later. If it had not been for That which is my Savior and my Lord and Creator, I would have perished many times allowing my 'nafs' or my ego to have the better of me.  

I do feel tired even as I am writing it down I am forcing it, I get the urge to say enough is enough, at least for today. Give up , go to bed, take a nap! However here I am still trying to make sense out of non-sense. Here I am listening to soft jazz piano music on the headphones and telling stories in order to justify why i have to stay awake and tell my story to myself and and calling it a 'Practice', Tomorrow, my Ausie Brother, Ben will be flying home to Australia to be with his mother for three weeks. I am gonna miss him.  Oh well the guy misses his Mom, what can you say. Yes i am getting tired of making these Blog Entries, it is a shame to simply give up when I am about to reach the end of my long narration of what has been and what will be and what is going on in and around my life. I am getting tired of telling and retelling my stories as thought i all really matters, that i am fulfilling a prescription for some illness that have been plaguing me for the most of my existence, like lust and anger, like hate and delusion, these illnesses which had very often got me into all manners of downfall and degradation, in the form of drug addiction and drunkenness, womanizer and abuser of trust, yes i have been all that and more in the past and by ingesting more drugs it will cure all these long time karmic accumulations and make them disappear. I am tired simply of fooling myself over and over that there is much greater meaning to this life when all I find having lived for the past seventy odd years is that life is one long boring repetitious haul of a load of nothing from out of one hole into another, as it is commonly called in the environmental language, from cradle to grave. Hence I have decided to join the Shunyamurti - Sat yoga, 'Wounded Hearts Club Band." I was a member of the 'Sargent Peppers' Lonely Hearts Club Band at one time when the Beatles were wild in the sixties and seventies.

I feel most fortunate to have been born in the fifties just after the War when the Japanese were kicked out of South East Asia and the British had decided they had sucked dry the natural resources of the country and left it in the hands of their staunch ass kissers to rule the people. I was born when the history of my country was going through major changes and the world was recovering from the post war traumas getting things up and running again with new ideas on how to run the countries better. But history as is said repeats itself, in the sixties the Vietnam War kept the war narrative moving along and the United States became the sheriff that ran the show or so it seemed. Then came the Hippies and the Power of Love that shook the masses all over the world with an awakening of sorts. Then came the Gulf Wars that the Bush family decided to take on under false pretentions, with the main cause was to eradicate Sadam Hussein and His Regime and to secure the Iraqi Oil production. I am not a historian but it was the way I felt it happened and I may be wrong. Muammar Gadhafi the Libyan Leader was next eliminated in the most heinous way by the NATO Alliances led by the United States simply because He was too smart for his own good. With his demise the country fell from one of the most prosperous to one that is broiled in civil wars. Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Israel and a host of other nations fell to the scourge of war  mostly propagated by the United States. This is the History that I have grown old with much or less. Here at home, the Malaysian Politics is in a class of its own with never a dull moment especially in the change of governments over a short period of time. Accused to be one of the most corrupted nation and complicit in the biggest financial scandal in the world, Malaysia since the Independence Days,{1957} is today still a blessed country to live in. This is why I returned to live in this country after having lived abroad for the past 25 years of my life. The United States, Japan and for a short time in Dubai, not bad countries to live in if one is looking to become rich and famous and they asked me why do you come back to this 'shit hole' after living in such far out places? I would answer them in my Zen like manner like, I would not be talking to you right now if I had decided to not come back would I? 

The longer version of the answer is more like, I return to live the rest of my life in this country of my birth because I would like to be able to experience having lived a full circle of life of both East and West and the in between. The opportunity to have lived in Sendai, Japan was like a transitional or transit zone for my family and I from having lived in the US for 21 years to moving back East ending up in Malaysia,  the prodigal son arriving home. The three years in Japan where my two children spent their Kindergarten education and my late wife teaching ESL all over Japan and me being the Baby Sitter, was a lesson for me to become more of a Zen practitioner than a stiff necked moron when i am confronted with tedious, monotonous and despicable task that comes my way. If ad when someone ask me again why I am doing what I am doing, I would say that it is my vow as a Bodhisattva to be the best that i can be in serving my fellow man.

"Beings are numberless, I Vow to Awaken with Them!"

And so i keep on writing...and no one has to read.