spent a night on the beach sand surrounded by red cliffs with wrinkles of time and holes of wisdom. throughout the night, I heard waves churning over and over right by my ears. the night sky of Sete was sparking, dropping diamonds on the sand in silence.
Oct 2, 2011
An imaginary conversation with my bald scalp
An imaginary conversation with my bald scalp
- where've you been?
the unnoticed landscape of my 24-yr-old bald scalp -
a small hill with sprinkles of black sesame seeds,
tranquil yet attentive.
I feel heat on and off from the back of my scalp.
is my scalp blushing?
blushing from sudden exposure to the world, perhaps.
no more hiding under the bushes of black seaweeds
dancing and twisting.
my beautiful scalp remains unagitated
in its coolness and freshness;
a blooming sense of liberation.
'how old you are, tiny bumpy pimple on the beautiful hill?'
'i am 17 yrs old,' one shy pimple whispers.
'it is my happiness to be aware of you,' i whisper back.
a new conversation has begun
between my unconscious scalp and conscious pimples.
one mold in my left ear tire joins the joyful conversation,
like north and south korean families reuniting in 2000;
we are re-learning how to smile, from inside to outside.
the sprinkles of black sesame seeds,
the most visible faculty of my bald scalp,
yet continues to remain quiet and private.
for it knows true attentiveness comes from silence not noise.
- where've you been?
the unnoticed landscape of my 24-yr-old bald scalp -
a small hill with sprinkles of black sesame seeds,
tranquil yet attentive.
I feel heat on and off from the back of my scalp.
is my scalp blushing?
blushing from sudden exposure to the world, perhaps.
no more hiding under the bushes of black seaweeds
dancing and twisting.
my beautiful scalp remains unagitated
in its coolness and freshness;
a blooming sense of liberation.
'how old you are, tiny bumpy pimple on the beautiful hill?'
'i am 17 yrs old,' one shy pimple whispers.
'it is my happiness to be aware of you,' i whisper back.
a new conversation has begun
between my unconscious scalp and conscious pimples.
one mold in my left ear tire joins the joyful conversation,
like north and south korean families reuniting in 2000;
we are re-learning how to smile, from inside to outside.
the sprinkles of black sesame seeds,
the most visible faculty of my bald scalp,
yet continues to remain quiet and private.
for it knows true attentiveness comes from silence not noise.
Sep 22, 2011
my 'bad' wwoofing experience
I still don't know if I made a right decision.
I escaped from my wwoofing farm at 5 am in the morning along with other canadian wwoofers. We walked for 4 hours (20 km) to get to Bernay, the nearest city, each carrying a backpack (20kg) or dragging a suitcase (15kg). I smuggled 3 apples from his apple tree right before sneaking out of the gate. All animals - Lingo, Vanille, Angelina, Kiyoka, Yuki-lune, and the chicken with a broken leg - wished us farewell and good luck on our adventure.
We left on our empty beds notes for Gabriel and Tomomi explaining why we were leaving so suddenly. His disrespectful attitude, lack of appreciation, and verbal violence made us feel that we were exploitated as free labor instead of being welcomed as helpers with personality, spirit, and willingness.
Since we were not in the position to change the situation (I spoke up explicitly three times throughout 4 weeks, engaging Gabriel in long conversations, but nothing changed), we decided to walk out of Gabriel's farm. As we began marching through the dark morning, I prayed that when my hosts wake up to find out they've been left alone, they will take today as an opportunity for self-reflection.
A question come into my mind. By sudden departure, what benefits/harms have been created? I could picture my host's face blushing, his mouth exploding with swearing words, and his head fuming with confusion, anger, and sadness. Did I really believe that he will humbly accept today as a day of reflection or was I trying to justify my escape in the name of blessing?
I honestly could not've spent one more morning trying to milk the old cow, whose tits are almost touching down the ground, while getting yelled at by Gabriel. I refuse his verbal violence, meanness, cynicism and dogma.
I left because after three weeks, I ran out of my patience with myself in dealing with his negativities. I started harming myself because I was getting frustrated. I decided to leave without telling him because I was afraid of receiving a permanent scar. My hope to heal his wound was not viable anymore.
What else could I have done differently? As a wwoofer, I was not given with any authority to change the situation. Although he treated me with reasonable kindness compared to other wwoofers,I found his selective favorism disgusting. I was silently pressured to be thankful for his random benevolence.
Jake, one of the other wwoofers, said Gabriel's farm was "over-producing." The house was always full of left-over fruits and vegetables, waiting to rot on the table or in the garden while still stuck in the soil. His surplus, which never got sold much due to the high price, created a problem of waste.
But as a source of exploitation, wwoofers were worked to meet his expectation of making surplus, which was why he got so upset if we had made mistakes. He's been feuling the vicious cycle of captialism in his petite private "family-run" organic farm for twenty plus years.
Gabriel faithfully recommended us to eat lots of fruits because "it's good for us," but no one except him and flies was interested in eating badly bruised wrinkly peaches on the dining table.
It is a great picture see Gabriel with all wwoofers at a Saturday market at Bernay, standing right next to Gabriel at all times. but no customer knows that we are not allowed to leave except for an hour, which most of us end up spending on internet since we dont get to use it at home frequent enough.
I finally burned out of the situation and ended up escaping, but I hope I can be friends with Gabriel again as I had been for nearly a year through emails. This will not happen unless he first admits his foolishness, and I truly hope the departure of me and two other canadian wwoofers and our letters impact him positively in the long run.
I escaped from my wwoofing farm at 5 am in the morning along with other canadian wwoofers. We walked for 4 hours (20 km) to get to Bernay, the nearest city, each carrying a backpack (20kg) or dragging a suitcase (15kg). I smuggled 3 apples from his apple tree right before sneaking out of the gate. All animals - Lingo, Vanille, Angelina, Kiyoka, Yuki-lune, and the chicken with a broken leg - wished us farewell and good luck on our adventure.
We left on our empty beds notes for Gabriel and Tomomi explaining why we were leaving so suddenly. His disrespectful attitude, lack of appreciation, and verbal violence made us feel that we were exploitated as free labor instead of being welcomed as helpers with personality, spirit, and willingness.
Since we were not in the position to change the situation (I spoke up explicitly three times throughout 4 weeks, engaging Gabriel in long conversations, but nothing changed), we decided to walk out of Gabriel's farm. As we began marching through the dark morning, I prayed that when my hosts wake up to find out they've been left alone, they will take today as an opportunity for self-reflection.
A question come into my mind. By sudden departure, what benefits/harms have been created? I could picture my host's face blushing, his mouth exploding with swearing words, and his head fuming with confusion, anger, and sadness. Did I really believe that he will humbly accept today as a day of reflection or was I trying to justify my escape in the name of blessing?
I honestly could not've spent one more morning trying to milk the old cow, whose tits are almost touching down the ground, while getting yelled at by Gabriel. I refuse his verbal violence, meanness, cynicism and dogma.
I left because after three weeks, I ran out of my patience with myself in dealing with his negativities. I started harming myself because I was getting frustrated. I decided to leave without telling him because I was afraid of receiving a permanent scar. My hope to heal his wound was not viable anymore.
What else could I have done differently? As a wwoofer, I was not given with any authority to change the situation. Although he treated me with reasonable kindness compared to other wwoofers,I found his selective favorism disgusting. I was silently pressured to be thankful for his random benevolence.
Jake, one of the other wwoofers, said Gabriel's farm was "over-producing." The house was always full of left-over fruits and vegetables, waiting to rot on the table or in the garden while still stuck in the soil. His surplus, which never got sold much due to the high price, created a problem of waste.
But as a source of exploitation, wwoofers were worked to meet his expectation of making surplus, which was why he got so upset if we had made mistakes. He's been feuling the vicious cycle of captialism in his petite private "family-run" organic farm for twenty plus years.
Gabriel faithfully recommended us to eat lots of fruits because "it's good for us," but no one except him and flies was interested in eating badly bruised wrinkly peaches on the dining table.
It is a great picture see Gabriel with all wwoofers at a Saturday market at Bernay, standing right next to Gabriel at all times. but no customer knows that we are not allowed to leave except for an hour, which most of us end up spending on internet since we dont get to use it at home frequent enough.
I finally burned out of the situation and ended up escaping, but I hope I can be friends with Gabriel again as I had been for nearly a year through emails. This will not happen unless he first admits his foolishness, and I truly hope the departure of me and two other canadian wwoofers and our letters impact him positively in the long run.
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