Steve B. Howard's Blog, page 160

Maybe ask them to cut it in half to $2.50

Maybe ask them to cut it in half to $2.50 instead, lol. I doubt they’d listen to that request either. I’ve enjoyed reading a lot of your stuff. And kudos to you for writing in a foreign language. Not a whole lot of people can do that as well as you do.

Yep, well said.

Yep, well said. After a few fruitless e-mails to the Medium overlords I wrote this out of frustration. It was the third most popular thing I’ve written on Medium. I think a lot of writers and publication owners feel the same way.

https://medium.com/@stevenbhow/wheres-the-fiction-medium-24cc1204b6bc

Kundalini Confusion

Photo by Jared Rice on Unsplash

I have no idea what to expect. Some Indian music plays in the background, a sitar, warbly singing, Mantras maybe. We sit in a circle on a large white couch. The Deeksha Givers ask us to close our eyes and relax or meditate. I’m in half lotus slowly counting my breath. I feel hands on top of my head. And then…..

Wild blue ropes of energy shoot from my hands and the top of my head. Waves of heat cause to mildly convulse. Suddenly, involuntary deep breathing pulls the energy up my spine. The snake uncoils into spectacular visions; The Buddha’s contented face in gold, a rainbow pulsing from my solar plexus; the “I” melts into the indescribable. Calmness descends. Bathing in the knowing, I smile.

breath deep this holy gift electric
Dharma fires through
blocks, the path has opened

Seven months later and I’m still unclean. Angry Karma rages across the little groove I occupy in the Field. My spontaneous Kundalini Awakening has been full of contradictions. If this is step one where should my feet fall for step two? Am I supposed to sit on the edge of the Ganges chanting Mantras? Hard to do seeing as I live in Japan. Life goes on in this modern world. I have no time to chase down a Guru. I’m left wondering, “What now?”

Life. Divine Mirth.
Not laughing at it?
Then you don’t get the punch line.

Kundalini Confusion was originally published in Publishous on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

So glad to see you’re back Tre! Looking forward to reading more great writing like this.

So glad to see you’re back Tre! Looking forward to reading more great writing like this.

Thanks for reading, clapping, and commenting on my writing.

Thanks for reading, clapping, and commenting on my writing. I’m glad you enjoyed it. That was my second attempt at a braided essay. I wrote it a year after my friend Keith (the surfer) passed away from cancer.

Yep,same in Washington State where I’m originally from.

Yep,same in Washington State where I’m originally from. But I prefer it over the hot humid summers and typhoons here in Japan where I currently live.

Great stuff!

Great stuff! Always cool to read a very well written vampire story. Curious if this will become a series? It would be great to read more in the future.

Purpose?

Photo by Luisa Azevedo on Unsplash

The Artist

In the morning, near my son’s daycare an old man uses a pair of barbecue tongs to pick up bright yellow Ginkgo Tree leaves from the sidewalk. He places each leaf into a small brown paper bag. I watch his face crease with concentration as he bends at the waist to gingerly pluck each chosen leaf from the white concrete. He seems to be very determined, but why he does it, I can’t tell.

The Surfer

This is the second time I’ve visited Shimoda. The first time was during Golden Week several years ago. I visited my friend Keith at his house here and he took me surfing. It is almost New Year’s. I have a bad cold. We drive north following the rocky coastline to a small beach Keith tells me is a secret local surf spot. Today we will only watch the waves today, not ride them. The empty parking lot near a small white beach is barren. Spring and summer will flood it with tourists, but on this winter day me and Keith have it to ourselves. Sitting on an old weather beaten log Keith points out the surf break to me. He is nearly as ragged as the log we sit on, a stark contrast to his normal lean athletic self. In the winter when the storms blow in the waves are sometimes four meters high, he tells me. Then he asks me a question. “Hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to kill yourself how would you do it?” I don’t know where it comes from, but an answer rushes into my brain and spills out of my mouth, “Hemlock Society,” I say. “Hemlock Society?” “Uh, yeah, when Socrates was killed they gave him a poison to drink made from Hemlock. That’s where the name comes from, but they help people who have terminal illnesses die with dignity, legally whenever possible. Normally a friend asking me about suicide would worry me, but Keith has terminal lung cancer and I assume he is just considering his options.

The Dedicated Monk

I’ve been watching a Werner Herzog documentary called “The Wheel of Time”. It is about a Tibetan Buddhist ceremony that is held every two years and is presided over by the Dalai Lama. In the documentary the ceremony is being held in Bodh Gaya in Nepal. Hundreds of thousands of Buddhist from all over the world are attending. Werner Herzog interviews a monk who has traveled from the Ando region in Tibet. The monk says he did traditional prostration the entire distance, placing his hands over his head, in front of his brow, his heart, and then laying on the ground and stretching his body out. It was a journey of over 3000 miles and took more than three years to complete. His hands are permanently disfigured and his knees and face are scared. But, he says when he reached Bodh Gaya he felt a deep serenity fill his body and spirit. I wonder if it was worth it?

The Artist

Rain has turned all the yellow leaves on the sidewalk into an ugly brown mush. I don’t see the old man for several days. Then, a few days later on a warm afternoon I see him sitting on a faded blue bench in a nearby park. He has a sketch pad in his lap and he is gazing intently at a tall leafless tree. The same yellow leaves he was collecting litter the ground around the tree. Occasionally, he takes his eyes off the tree and sketches something rapidly onto the sketchpad. He seems to have an intense passion for his artwork.

The Surfer

I call Keith. He answers his cell phone, but his voice sounds tired and scared. He tells me he’s been having strong seizures recently. His doctor thinks the cancer has moved from his lungs to his brain. “But I’ve lived a year longer than they expected me too, so that’s good news,” he says laughing. I don’t know what to say to him, though I’m glad to hear him laugh. He is planning on going back to Australia soon to see his family. As he talks, I silently wonder if this is the last time he will ever see them.

The Dedicated Monk

I finish watching “The Wheel of Time.” On the first day the Dalai Lama announces that he is very sick and cancels the entire ceremony. Millions of people traveled to Bodh Gaya from all over the world to attend. I wonder how the monk feels. After enduring all the pain and suffering and having severely damaged his body, now all he can do is make the long trek back to the Ando region of Tibet. What would a sudden end to your greatest life’s ambition be like?

Artistically Surfing Life like a Monk

Me and Kai are at the park again today. I’m pushing Kai in the cold metal swing. The thick chain creaks and rattles. Kai is screaming happily for me to push him higher. I’m only half listening. I’m thinking about Keith. He died a week ago in Sydney. A blood vessel in his brain burst during the flight from Japan and he was dead three days. After a few minutes Kai wants to stop swinging. I stop the swing for him and help him climb out of the red plastic seat. He runs towards the see-saw. I think about the old artist. I haven’t seen him again either. And I think about Keith and the monk and wonder. Then Kai calls me over to the see-saw to play with him. I sit on the see-saw and we bounce up and down. And he laughs and laughs.

Originally published in Five:2:One 2017

Purpose? was originally published in The Creative Cafe on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Well, I teach English in Japan and I think yours is excellent. Great article.

Well, I teach English in Japan and I think yours is excellent. Great article.

Yeah, they are actually a Japanese company, which is probably why the focused on reading instead of…

Yeah, they are actually a Japanese company, which is probably why the focused on reading instead of speaking.