Esoteric Bowl

After reaching a distance of about two-hundred yards from my home, it dawned on me that I had forgotten to put a paperclip on my term paper. Certainly a minor detail, but the kind of detail that some professors allow to annoy them. Not wanting to get on the bad side of the professor, my walk slowed and I asked myself if I wanted to return to the house to get a paperclip. No, I did not.

Once decided, I continued my walk towards the class and considered the chances of another student having an extra paperclip. I was then reminded of one of my favorite meditative thoughts; what I need will come to me. I feel strongly about this thought. After all the wonderful gifts that have presented themselves to me in life, some at the most miraculous of times, it would be impossible not to have a strong sense that these words hold considerable truth.

I decided to allow a paperclip to present itself to me. I know it must sound silly to some, but I considered it another opportunity for further discovery. Besides, it wasn’t something big like a car, it was only a paperclip. As I continued to walk, I focused on the thought of what I need will come to me. I envisioned a paperclip.

As much as I wanted to discover a paperclip on the ground during my trek, there was none to be found. As I reached the building and climbed the stairs, I questioned whether I had been open enough to receive what I needed. I turned the corner of the building, and laying outside the door of my classroom was a large shiny paperclip. For a brief moment, the paperclip and I shared a knowing smile.

It’s late-breaking news, so I don’t know all the details. But from what I do know, the Poppin Fresh Doughboy is suffering from internal injuries following a freak index-finger accident. At this point, his condition has been upgraded to stable. From what I’ve heard, he is resting quietly in a local hospital under the assumed name of John Dough.

I was in Chinatown for a little while today. I always like going there. Although Chinatown is located in the old part of Honolulu, it is still one of the few places where all of my senses become childlike. Everything always seems as if I am experiencing it for the first time. And while the sights are not all agreeable, nor all the scents pleasant, there is a specialness that can be felt. Even the shoving and pushing by the little old women becomes quaint.

While browsing the various markets and shops, I went into a Chinese herb store. An entire wall there has been built with shelves, with large glass containers resting upon them. Inside each glass container is a specific herb for a specific ailment. As I began looking at all the herbs, an elderly man came from behind a curtain and asked if I needed some help. For some silly reason, the first thing out of my mouth was to ask him if he had anything that would provide me blessings. He paused for a moment at my stupidity, and then he got angry. “Whatsamatter you? Dis not one good-luck store!” I knew what I had asked was stupid, and his response only confirmed it. I apologized about a hundred times and tried to get away before I embarrassed myself anymore.

I forget a lot of things. My memory isn’t what it used to be. Sometimes, I forget the simplest of things and it becomes a struggle to remember. I know the cause for this memory loss, and from what I have been told, it will gradually continue. My greatest fear is that my memory will ultimately fade to a point where I no longer can recall how to do the things most important to me.

In the meantime, I write notes to myself. I am constantly jotting down little reminders; things that need to be done and what has already been completed. My refrigerator has multiple notes and reminders hiding behind little magnets. The kitchen counter has assorted sheets of paper with personal messages to myself, mixed with the occasional thought that comes to mind. The lines are vertical, horizontal, upside-down, some in ink and some in pencil, but all written at a moments time when what was to be remembered was everything, and such matters as how it appeared on paper never crossed my mind.

Notebooks rest alongside my bed, and pile high on the carpet next to my computer; all containing thoughts that were once important enough to write. There are times when I rummage through all the various notes, searching so very hard for a single thought. The search becomes like the quest in my own head, desperately trying to seek out and remember. I forget a lot things.

I had clipped a fingernail a little too short on the side and the finger became sensitive. I don’t have any Bactine in the house, so I tried a dab of Orajel to see if it would provide some relief.
It doesn’t work.

I had always considered myself to be a helpful and giving person. I did my share to buy fund-raiser candy from the neighborhood kids, donated clothes that no longer fit to the community thrift store, and ate only dolphin-friendly tuna. Oh course, I had aspirations of doing much more for the community and the world, but that was always on hold until I could accomplish certain personal goals. The problem was, these certain goals had a way of being replaced by other certain goals, and I just never could find the time or energy to save the world.

However, my knowing that I did want to be a helpful and giving person, kind of made me feel better about not doing anything towards being a helpful and giving person. It also allowed me the ability to shake my head at others and to point my index finger in their direction, knowing that I had every intention of doing all kinds of wonderful things…one day.

Suddenly, I discovered that I had gotten older. I was no longer the idealistic youth that blamed all the sins of the world on those that came before me. Instead, I was one of the many that had done far too little to make this world a better place for others or myself. The thoughts of what I was going to do one day no longer seemed to provide solace for my lack of doing now.

Since coming upon this realization, I started making a conscious effort to give something every day. Though I still lack the funds to give the millions of dollars to charity that I would if I was super rich, I do give. There are so many ways of giving that cost nothing and involves no money. And though I still can’t find the time to donate large portions of my life towards a cause, there are a variety of ways of giving that don’t take large quantities of time.

After making a conscious effort to give in one way or another, there comes a point when the effort does eventually come naturally. As much joy that is felt in giving a loved one a present at Christmas, that same certain joy can be found in the giving of a small gesture of kindness to another, or picking up trash on a walk around the neighborhood, or looking into a strangers eyes and smiling while silently wishing them well. The rush I receive in this giving is difficult to describe, and oftentimes I wonder who is the giver and who is the receiver in this exchange. Although I’m still not saving the world, my own world has become a better place to live in.

It’s somewhat strange to think that I could feel a connection with certain people by reading there online journals. I come upon their site and read what they have to share. If it interests me, I will browse some of the offerings they have on their site; poetry, photographs, artwork, and read the archives from where they began their journal. It’s interesting to read their observations on their own personal journey through life, as well as how things unfold for them, and to share in their discoveries, joys, and sorrows. One can get a sense of a person by reading their journal. No matter how much or how little they decide to divulge, a vibe of themselves is revealed. Granted, there are countless reasons why people maintain an online journal, but I think that too can be found by reading what they have to share.

Once I have discovered someone I enjoy reading, I find myself being drawn towards their site, and in some cases it becomes a part of my daily read. Reading their journals has somehow become a ritual that I look forward to in my daily life. I feel a closeness, a bond, a friendship of sorts with these strangers I have never met. When I go to their site and nothing has been posted, it gives me the feeling like a friend didn’t call on the phone to say hello. I actually find myself missing them. Perhaps they have been busy, I tell myself. Eventually, one can learn a general writing pattern that another has, and while posts are almost expected at certain sites, others don’t write as often. But when there is a new journal entry, I get comforting feeling. I read the post with such delight, and savor every thought that has been shared. I try to provide a comment on what they have written, that is if I can think of something half-way bright to say. I know how much I enjoy receiving feedback on my site, so I try to make a conscious effort to give the things that I desire. Most of all, I try to comment not so much to share any particular wisdom, but rather to let them know that there is someone out there that is interested in them and what they have to say, and cares about their welfare.

Like I said earlier, it’s strange how this connection could develop by reading journals. But once this connection is made, there is a certain feeling of joy and reassurance to see that certain individuals have posted a new entry. No matter the experience, adventure, or whatever has occurred in their day, it’s good to know that they too have survived it all and that they will be taking a step into tomorrow with me.