Birth Mandala

It all began when the ultra-talented Ruth wrote a post about a beautiful stained-glass mandala by Stratoz. I wrote a comment telling her about the ten-centimeter birth mandala I was given when I was pregnant with my first child. I went on to say that I was about to give a birth mandala as a gift and would it not be great if she wrote a companion poem for it? I sent her the image of the mandala I downloaded from Mandala Coloring Pages and colored using PhotoShop, The blues and yellow are a nod to the expecting mother’s Swedish heritage.

***

A handful of e-mails later, Ruth delivered the most gloriously inspired poem I could ever imagine. Ruth used Koan-like questions to frame her poem. A Koan question or riddle is a Buddhist concept that is accessible through intuition. I  learned about this Zen concept here. It is designed to:

 “act as a catalyst to awaken our true, deep, pure nature... Koans are not rational questions with rational answers. Koans are NOT answered; that would engage the mind, which is our problem…A question like “what is the sound of one hand clapping?” can only be answered if you drop mind and body. The aim of a Koan is to free you from the prison of the mind and the five senses...to return to “the original face before you were born.” 

I can not imagine a more apt form to inspire a young woman in labor. Thank you, dear Ruth, for sharing your considerable talents with the world.

Koan-like Questions of a Mother to her Unborn Child

Is there something quieter than sleep?

My whispers circle you like jasmine vine, the way
my arms want to, when my palm will cup your head,
my thumb in the shallow petal of your temple.
Terrace.

Where is the pocket in the nightshirt of early morning?

You didn’t notice just now that I turned over in bed, rolling
first onto my right side, then onto my left.
Leaves everywhere on blue-white cotton.

What shape are you?

In my teardrop body you sleep, sucking your thumb —
puzzle piece in the circle of your mouth.
Paisley baby, paisley thumb,
paisley me, paisley breast. Lace.

What is grace?

I pull myself up, like a camel, into a sitting position,
lean left, push off, grunt, rise, stand, and low into the sway
of this me, your cradle, creaking at my hips.
Caravanserai.

Do you remember it, that hymn from the old church
through the window as we slowly climbed the stair?

Holding the bedpost, carved like an altar,
my eyes closed, up from the organ
in my chest the music — unnamed song
through the vibrating reed of my watery throat.
Repeat.
Stained glass moon. Bosphorus.

Can you see me in the dark?

My hand rests on the olive of your shoulder,
or is that a heel? Hush, keep sleeping, don’t worry
about positions. You are touching everything
in any case.
Mountain magnolia blossom.

2011

Listen to a podcast of this poem here. (You can hear the birds outside Ruth's office window if you listen carefully.)
____________

Poem notes:

Caravanserai: the fortress-like hostelries for sojourners on the Silk Road.

Bosphorus: the body of water between the European and Asian sides of Istanbul; 'bosphorus' means 'throat' in Turkish; Ruth's daughter Lesley went to school on the European side, crossing the Bosphorus every morning and evening from and to her home on the Asian side.

***

I brought the poem and the mandala to the baby shower. MoMo, my book club sister and grandmother of the newborn, was in the labor room coaching all the way. Her e-mails to book club had us rooting for the mother-to-be throughout the difficult 38 hours of labor. Last Saturday we received the long-awaited e-mail:

"He is finally here! And my beautiful daughter is just absolutely amazing. I am in awe of her grace, calmness and determination. She has a warrior spirit and inner strength that helped her deliver a beautiful baby boy. It was truly awesome! I will send a few pics tomorrow but I am exhausted and heading for sleep. Thank you all for your kind words of encouragement for my daughter. We felt the power of this women-spirit!"

He arrived at 4:02 PM , weighing in at 7lbs 13 ounces, 20 inches long and healthy, alert, and absolutely beautiful! Would you not agree?

Welcome to the world!

Now this mandala has come full circle. Ruth made her grand announcement that she too will be joining the ranks of grandparenthood.

Congratulations Ruth!

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls

One of my favorite books that we read in my book club is a memoir by Jeannette Walls named The Glass Castle. The book begins with the author in a New York City taxicab all gussied up to go to a fancy schmancy event. When the cab took a shortcut through an alley, she saw a woman rooting through a dumpster. When she realized that this woman was her own mother, Walls slid down her seat and asked the driver to take her home. The Glass Castle then goes on to explain how her life ended up in this scene of contrasts.

Saturday night I saw Jeannette Walls speak at the Marin Center. By a strange coincidence, I happened to be the one who let her in the building when she arrived one hour before show time. I only had a chance to say that I was pleased as punch to meet her and that I loved her book before the official Marin Center person came to greet her. What I really wanted to do was steal off to have a cup of tea with her. She was already impeccably dressed with full stage make-up. Did she really need a full hour to do a sound check? I knew we would get along because we had so much in common.

Early in The Glass Castle, Walls relates the story about how she burned herself at age three when she was cooking a hot dog for herself. At around age three, I too burned myself. We were living in Lawang on the island of Java in  Indonesia where my parents ran a small satellite factory for my grandmother. The factory produced bottled tropical fruit syrups similar to the Torani fruit syrups used to make Italian sodas. The floor had just been mopped and, while I was running, I slipped and fell into one of the large, low vats of molten sugar that were lined up along the gangway. The right side of my torso, my right arm, and part of my face were immersed. I did not need skin grafts like Walls because I was fortunate that my mother knew of a very good German doctor in Lawang. He gave me a shot, no doubt for the pain, and dispensed a white cream in a tube to rub over my burns. I wish I knew what this salve was because everywhere my mother applied the medicine, there is no trace of the burn. The only place where I have a scar is behind my ear where my hair obscured the wound from my mother. Whenever I go to a new hairdresser I get to explain this story because there is an ugly scar and no hair growing behind my right ear. I often think how different my life would have been if my mother had not known of this doctor.

I dislike author talks that only rehash stories already contained in their book, though I do appreciate hearing a passage or two read in the author's voice. Walls only related stories from her book to give context to her anecdotes. She quickly told the story of her burning accident in order to explain how accepting her husband is of her skin graft scars by referring to them as interesting and textured, not smooth and boring. I now know what to say the next time I see my hair dresser.

Another way my life was like Walls' is that our fathers were both dreamers. Where Walls' father "skedaddled" from city to city and state to state, my father skedaddled us from country to country, continent to continent chasing the dream for a better life. . I was a teenager when my father made noises of pulling up stakes to move to Canada or Australia, but this time we were older and more independent so we told him to go without us.  We were no fools; we knew it didn't get better than California. My father chose to stay.

Like Walls, it was education that catapulted us into a new life. It is doubtful that my sisters and I would have gotten the same quality education as we got at UC Berkeley for $212.50 per quarter had we lived elsewhere.

Walls told of a young reluctant reader who carried The Glass Castle around with him everywhere. When his teacher asked him what it was about that book that he loved, he said, "That there is a fine white trash story." Then she talked about a young privileged cheerleader that she met in the Carribean who said that Walls' book convinced her to never make fun of a classmate again. Walls then exclaimed in her charming Southern drawl, "The Lord can strike me down right now!" because she was able to connect with people from both ends of the spectrum.

I sincerely hope that the Lord will keep you around for lots longer because we like the likes of you and look forward to reading your next book in October.

For a clip of Jeannette and her mother, click below:

For the Simon & Schuster reading guide, click here.

California Academy of Science

During our weekend in San Francisco, we also visited the California Academy of Science. There was a long line for tickets, though the membership line was considerably shorter. It is possible to make reservations on-line and I understand there is a kiosk available where you can pick up your ticket using your credit card.

We didn’t get much time to wander around the building because The Academy was scheduled to close at three for a Halloween event and we had reservations for lunch at the Moss Room. In our group, food trumps most other events.

The building was designed by Renzo Piano using all the latest green technology to create sustainable architecture. Piano has a resume as long as a keyboard including the Centre Pompidou in Paris and the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York.

The California Academy of Science has a lovely light hi-tech feeling with opportunities for sensory overload in every direction.

The lines for the rainforest and Morrison Planetarium were impossible, but we did meet Claude the 13-year-old alligator.

I was thrilled to see that the seahorse railing surrounding the Alligator Swamp was saved from the original building:

The penguin habitat is a big hit with everyone because they are just so darned cute to watch. Did you know that penguins mate for life? If you want to know all about their mates and more, they have their own blog and no less than three penguincams devoted to them!

We did get a brief glimpse of some the beautiful displays of the Steinhart Aquarium:

This giant sea bass at least 70 years old and weighs 165 pounds. He can live up to 100.

I've come up with a couple of captions. Do you have some captions to suggest for the photos in this post?

"Just on my way tangobaby to pick a shade of lipstick":

"Is he still following me?":

Last, but not least, we had just enough time to visit the Living Roof. The 2 ½ acre roof blends in beautifully into the environment of the park. Architect Piano said the roof design “is like lifting up a piece of the park and putting a building under it.” It serves as great natural cooling system, keeping the building ten degrees cooler inside.

\

In the spring, the roof’s native plantings should be in full bloom:

The De Young Museum as seen from the Living Roof:

All in all, the Academy of Science is a very exciting and inspiring place that I look forward to visiting again and again.

San Francisco Chinatown - Part III

Our City Guide , Mae, told us that residents of Chinatown viewed the main streets to be for the tourists. The alleys, on the other hand, are where the real business occurred. They were safe places to keep away from the foreign eye, especially while the Chinese Exclusion Act was in effect from 1882 to 1943.

Wentworth Alley used to be called “Salt Fish Alley”. Since the waterfront was only two blocks away at that time, this was a convenient place to salt the fish before they were exported to China. Sadly, this is also where slave girls were auctioned off. The girls were often picked up after they disembarked from ships coming in from China and their intended San Francisco connections failed to meet them.

Some alleys housed Chinese Opera theaters, as advertised in the window above. Ma Tsu Temple, 30 Beckett Street, is a beautiful and inspiring place to make an offering and to say prayers.

Other alleys offer acupuncture treatments or herbs like ginseng root. Mae recalls her mother making medicinal soups for her family. She said those soups provided a lot of motivation to get better after only one dose because you never wanted a second dose, and you definitely never wanted to look at the bottom of the pot.

When we entered this alley we heard "America the Beautiful". This musician was playing two-stringed violin, named erhu, which was outlawed during the Cultural Revolution. He is very proud that he was in the movie "In Pursuit of Happyness":

We watched fortune cookies being made at the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory on Ross Alley. I’m partial to the sesame cookies they sell there.

Photo: sanfranciscochinatown.com

Behind these barred windows and doors we heard the chatter of mah jongg tiles. Some of these games go on all night long. A tunnel system underneath many alleys allows for easy escape.

Speaking of gambling, Mae gave some very practical advice for crossing Portsmouth Square. If you see a card game in progress, please keep walking because if you stop to watch, you may be suspected of cheating for one of the players.

Thank you, Mae, for a very informative tour. I’m sorry we had to leave the tour early because we had lunch reservations at Café de la Presse, just across the street from the Chinatown gate.

San Francisco Chinatown - Part I

Goddess of Democracy

I had a glorious weekend in San Francisco with my fantastic book club friends. Even though it is only forty miles away from Palo Alto, we felt like we really got away from it all. The autumn weather was perfection and the weekend flowed effortlessly from one event to the next. Several of us chose to take the San Francisco Chinatown tour offered by the all-volunteer organization San Francisco City Guides sponsored by the San Francisco Public Library.

Our City Guide, Mae Schoenig, met us in the heart of Chinatown at the historic Portsmouth Square. She not only shared many nuggets of history of Chinatown with us, she also shared how she and her family fit into this history.

We learned that Portsmouth Square is where the discovery of gold was announced in May of 1848. It is also the site of the terminus of the first cable-propelled street car in the world, and it is the home of the first public school in California.

Robert Louis Stevenson lived in San Francisco when he wrote “Kidnapped” and "Treasure Island" . This marker was erected in his honor:

The poem reads:

To Remember Robert Louis Stevenson
To be honest, to be kind – to earn a little, to spend a little less - to make upon the whole a family happier for his presence - to renounce when that shall be necessary, and not be embittered - to keep a few friends but these without capitulation - above all on the same grim condition to keep friends with himself - here is a task for all that a man has of fortitude and delicacy

A bronze statue of the Goddess of Democracy stands at Portsmouth Square. It is a replica of the impromptu foam and paper mache statue that Chinese students created during the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989.

The resemblance to our Statue of Liberty is of course the highest form of flattery. I hope that if a similar struggle for democracy were to occur somewhere abroad today its activists would still choose the Statue of Liberty as inspiration.

Tina Turner

Last night a group of us went to the Tina Turner 50th Anniversary Concert at the HP Pavillion in San Jose. Even though some of our teenage sons wished us fun at our “fossil concert” and drove home the point by making fun of the 7:30 start time, we all had a rollicking good time.

Tina put on an amazing show. The show pulled every imaginable glitzy trick in the book. She had great musicians in her band and four sexy dancers, each a fraction of her age, who could duplicate every Tina Turner signature dance move with Tina’s signature attitude. I was very impressed how she can still belt out all the songs in tune and at full power at age 68. She used the two female singers wisely, allowing them to complete songs she kick started while she went back stage to change costumes and, I’m sure, to catch her breath. We went to a concert at the Mountain Winery a few weeks ago where the star was in denial about having lost most of the upper range of his voice. It was agonizing to hear him reach for notes that never materialized. We all would have been grateful had he allowed the back up singers to fill in the gaps. But I digress.

Tina's performance did not disappoint. She sang all the big, big hits like “What’s Love Got to Do With It?”, “Simply the Best”, “Mad Max” performed in full costume, and “Let’s Stay Together”. She gave every song her all while dancing, shimmying and strutting in five-inch stilettos. I also enjoyed a ballad version of The Beatles’ “Help!” and “Addicted to Love” performed in front of a large screen duplicate of the famed all-female band of Robert Palmer’s video. The "Proud Mary" finale was spectacular! I'm still new at this blogging business so I haven't figured out how to include videos in stream yet, so I'll just have to give you this link instead.

The other star of the show was the stage. It had the ability to morph into what seemed like endless combinations of stairs, hydraulic lifts, pyrotechnics, and scaffolding. Just when we thought we saw it all, she kept a surprise for us at the encore. Tina sang from a cherry-picker-style bucket that was at the end of a long arm that emerged from the stage and swung over the audience.

The biggest negative of the evening was the venue. HP Pavilion may be a great location for ice hockey, but the acoustics were deplorable. I vowed that I will never go to a concert there again unless I believe it is the last chance to see a great performer. The second, more unplugged set was more forgiving of the bad acoustics and therefore more enjoyable.

I just got an e-mail from Mor Mor Kris who wrote about last night’s performance:

“What a fun and most interesting concert last night. I can't wait 'till I am 68 to start climbing on slippery metal catwalks with 5 inch heels, dancing like I was 20 and just belting out soul 'till the cows come home! Amazing! (I want fire, too). So fun!”

Hear, hear! Thank you, Dakota Angel, for arranging a great evening!