Photo-graphing POETree

I took this series of photos at 3:00 AM. Long day, calmer night. My low tech friend request earlier in the evening was not to connect with someone while scrolling Facebook. It was a request to a friend, long lost lover, to share any words of wisdom or solace as a balm for my rough day. His response was Kung Fu Panda, a series of YouTube Music meditations from the Taoist teachings, including being like water, and two laid back hip hop beats, one about relaxing and one about talking to God.

Still reeling from the significant professional blow I had received first thing in the morning, my body was tense and aching and my mind, unyielding. As I sat cross legged on the floor, my cat circling me with curiosity, I began to make my way through the stream of videos that appeared as text messages. Each 5-7 minute video sank me deeper and deeper into calm as I slowly melted like ice caps giving into the sun. The simple task of being like water, letting go, and flowing with, instead of against the current, had trickled into my mind and quickly filled the emptiness that had been overtaking me. I became the glass. The water that is poured in, takes the shape of the vessel. My body had relaxed and the world no longer felt pressed in on me, but cupped me in its hands like a handful of ocean that cannot be contained.

As the night began to turn back to day, I stood on my porch, looking out into light darkness, smiling for no reason.

These are the poems that arose under this same early morning night sky:

The echo

Squeaking swings of playground sets

Flying with toes pointing to the sky

Tilting heads to the sun until polka dots

Make eclipses of eyes.

The thrust of jumping, body in the air

The echo of birds in my arms.

Sound machine

The ocean laughs at me

As I lie here searching for sleep in the waves.

I cannot swim and the sheep are drowning.

Out damn sound! Blotting minds like Rorschach,

the stream trickles down obladi♪ oblongata, life is going on.

Maybe I dream tomorrow.

Birds

They sneak snatches of sound that whisper the dark. Where do they sleep at night?

Come again?

You turned my day around

And night was beautiful

I thought that I felt empty

But I was just too full

In my now near Zen state, it seemed fitting that I put this digital photo album together and that it sounds like this. The peaceful trees softly nestled in clouds like the long awaited slumber of the day, sway gently, listening to the chiming from the East.

I titled the video album “exposed” as some of the photos were taken with the flash on, making something of a magical highlight to the trees. It made me think of the Disney movie Fantasia. Which makes me think of the Disney empire. Empires. Colonies. Protectorates. All of the not-so-magical.

The title, along with the final selection of music, echoed in my mind as I think of the distorted perspectives toward Chinese, and all Asian American Pacific Islanders, regarding “exposure” to the virus. I debated whether to include this allusion in a story about finding serenity, but it is precisely the point. There is no freedom until all are free. No justice until all have justice. No peace until all have peace. This is the meditation. Mediation. Ideation. The ion. The very thing. As the seed, is itself, the whole tree.