I love this photo, "Bucket", by Avijit, one of the kids from the documentary, "Born into Brothels". It's beauty is unescapable and the composition is striking. He was only 11 when he took it. I think he's a film student at NYU right now. There is so much talent on this beautiful earth and most of it needs to be nurtured and discovered by You.

The Red Wheelbarrow

So much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens

--William Carlos Williams

Bridges

I KNOW I need to write more. I KNOW I'm called to write. But the thought of editing, revising and rewriting drains me. Why can't we just write perfectly on our first attempt? Because then everyone would be a writer, Pae would say. Anyways here's a little something I wrote and didn't edit, because well, you know why...

There's a bridge in North East Java, the Suramadu bridge, aka Surabaya-Madura bridge. Interestingly enough the students we taught in Malang were mostly Madurese immigrants, and my first boyfriend's name was Madu. What is my name?, suramadu, close enough. Madura is a small island just north of Surabaya, where we landed upon arrival in Java. Bridges fascinate me, along with many others I'm sure, and while we didn't take a trip to the bridge, I'm sure there's room in the future for one. Madu was my first kiss, but when he told me in a Christmas card that he loved me, I shut down, started ignoring him and had my Mom call to do the breaking up. I wasn't courageous enough to tell him with my mouth and tongue and breath that I was afraid of love from him because that meant I would have to return it. Instead I found my inner coward and summoned her ways. I was 16, some people are married at that age, some people in Madura have families and completely different lives than me at 16. While I was breaking Madu's heart at 16 in San Jose, CA, I'm sure a 16 year old "woman" in Madura was birthing her first child while her husband was out with his second wife or "lover". Perhaps that's why I was afraid of love at such a tender age. I only understood jealous, selfish and abusive love and didn't know what pure love looked or felt like. I wasn't ready to accept Madu's love, whether it was pure or not, just like the Madurese girl didn't understand pure love and perhaps today, at 26, she still doesn't. I do. I should help her find it as well. Perhaps she has 5 children today, from different "men". Maybe her first husband was poisoned by a jealous lover. Maybe she uses love potions to get men to stay with her for the night so she can feel the warmth of a man's arms and wish he would stay with her forever. Perhaps right at this very moment, she's praying to Allah, or a variety of Hindu gods or an animistic spirit for love, to know it and to be known by it. I'd like to help her. I hope my inner coward doesn't take over and like a giant wave knock me off this bridge I'm on. If bridges can connect land masses and people can they also connect the hearts of those people?