A rosy song for life

The second night of South Africa.
A squall wrathfully has the land soaked and wet.
Lightnings ripple the dark sky.
Thunders roar onto the yellow Earth.

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A little girl around the age of 5 in the next room is amusingly inquisitive.

“What’s your name?”
“Why are you alone?”
“What do you do?”
“Why do you eat dinner?”
“Why do you get hungry?”

Then all of a sudden she bends her knees and sits on her butt on the floor, telling me “Oh! Something is pushing me down! So heavy that I can’t move my legs. Can you pull me up?” She extends her arms towards me to invite my hands to hold hers. By holding her underarms, I lift her up and have her jump back to the standing position. We repeat this new play a few times.

Her dazzling questioning continues.
“Do you have daddy?”
Unlike to the other questions, this one freezes my mind for 0.0001 second.
“Yes, I do.”
“What language do you and your daddy speak?”
“Japanese”
“Why Japanese?”
“Because we lived in Japan,” noticing myself mixing the present and past tenses, which clearly reflects my psychology. Different voices debate in my head, how honest shall I be to this little girl who I most likely won’t see again?

“I have daddy but he is now gone. Up in the…” pointing my index finger upward, while I feel awkward to complete my sentence with the word “heaven.” I skip it by replacing with the gesture. I ain’t sure which words to use to the girl. At the same time, I laugh at myself who is automatically about to using a cliche explanation about death to a kid. Is that me? Nooooo.

She asks, “why is he gone?”
“Because he is dead,” said I, without hesitance.
“Why is he dead?”
Another pause my mind has to take. That’s an interesting question. I wanna know, too. Why?

“That’s a good question. …..Because he was called.”
“Why was he called?”
This question really really gets me like lightning strikes.

Why?

(A deep breath)

Why?

A riddle yet to be solved.

“That’s another good question honey. …..He was called because it was his timing. Everybody is called at their own timing. I will be called someday. You will, too.”

Her name is Rosy.
A minstrel with a rose sings for his life (which is equal to death).

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Marriage of Sun and Moon

Am I independent?

Yes I am.

Am I dependent?

Yes I am.

One solid pillar runs through my inner core. I call it soul. I call it instinct. I call it intuition. I call it karma. I listen to it. I trust it. I follow it. I surrender to it.

The infinite number of threads are led to the pillar and tie the knots around it.  I call them connections. I call them relationships. I call them communities. I call them support. I call them love.

Independency and dependency on others are completely integrated. Dualism of Individualism and collectivism or independency and dependency dissolve. They aren’t opposite polars.  They can gracefully marry and lead a happy life together.

Knowing how to engage myself in an inner emotional journey, when to have a dialog with my mind, and what wisdom to draw from my soul. Caring for own existence.  Maximizing own time. Purifying own words and deeds.  I savor genuine solitude that I’m given everyday.

showing my weaknesses. Admitting my incapability. Asking for help when needed. Letting go off myself.  Leaning to the shoulders next to me. Believing in spirit of words, “I’m there for you.” Loving back to those who love me. I adore tender intimacy that I’m given everyday.

This is a blissful life.