Internationally renowned writer, poet and translator, member of the Chinese Writers Association. The only female inheritor of UNESCO-listed Dongba Culture, International Disseminator of Dongba Culture and practitioner of Chinese culture’s global outreach. Winner of the Italian Francesco Giampietri International Literary Award, President of Lanxin Samei Academy and Dean of Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy.
A thousand years ago
we took root together in this ancient temple
Century after century quietly passed
we became the most devoted ancient trees in all the world
Over this thousand years
through the silent turning of the four seasons
through the unpredictable cycles of life
we have witnessed this ancient temple
rise and fall fall and rise enduring all hardships
We watch beings come and go burn incense and pray
with thousands of wishes in their hearts
Yet our watch has never wavered
not even for a single moment
The butterfly bush blooms pure white in winter and spring
the golden osmanthus shines bright gold in autumn
the red plum blossoms blushing pink in the bitter cold
the Chinese crabapple bursts into rose-red in spring
the incense cypress wears eternal green all year long
Whether the temple is full of voices or completely still
whether incense burns prosperous or only broken walls remain
we stand root to root heart to heart silently guarding one another
Even if the halls collapse and only we are left in heaven and earth
we still firmly believe —
one day the phoenix will come stepping upon light
to reunite with us after a thousand years
Now heaven rewards this thousand year of waiting this endless longing
At last she has arrived —
the phoenix draped in ten thousand rays of golden light
Amidst total desolation she recognized us at first sight
Amidst utter ruin she chose us without hesitation
Amidst broken walls she restored the temple’s thousand-year glory
Amidst silence and loneliness
she made incense burn again and life flourish once more
Amidst the dust of years
she made this sacred land known to all renowned across the world
From this day on
we shall live and die with the phoenix never to be parted
This is the place where the golden phoenix returns to rest
This is the place where the golden phoenix spreads her wings and soars
If the world shall give us a new name
then bestow upon us —
Phoenix Ancient Trees!
Interpretation
This poem takes the thousand-year-old ancient trees as silent witnesses and the phoenix as a symbol of light and rebirth. It speaks of the deepest bond between human and nature, and writes of waiting, guardianship and faith across time. This is the guardianship of life to life, the call of soul to soul, a great love that transcends race, borders and time.
May this pure deep feeling from the East by poet Lan Xin awaken the truest kindness and peace in the world and let love and light shine upon all humanity.
Inside the meadow there was a stand of trees and inside there was the cool shade and whimsical winds sometimes made a sound through the branches. I stood there and rested, halfway through my sojourn exploring nature. There were times outside of there that blue butterflies were thriving and many grasshoppers bloomed, plus some spiders.
Up above in the summers a blue sky often, but, if it turned and became overcast and that atmospheric energy entered the air, that sort of ‘before the storms’ feeling, well that was just as good as I wasn’t that far from the paths that led out and it was also an interesting change to feel that charge in the air.
And in the four seasons, that area was a dutiful and true friend, for it at its base never wavered. I think I realize now that the truth of the truth of the truth of the real and actual truth is that that area became along the way a special and loved and loving destination, a marriage of sorts between a poet and the lands where the walking would help the poet go a symbolic and literal step more towards becoming a mystic.
Spirit message. Intuition. Renewal of the mind, body, and spirit. self-healing. Kindness. Clarity. A structure out of regular psychological sets and more centred in the universal or cosmic. Society was literally and figuratively so far away in those moments, times with feet grounded on the earth, and say, the summer fields colourful or the spring universe beginning to bloom, but also the autumnal grounds with leaves or after, the wild winter, its snow resting upon the world’s reeds, branches, and pathways. Yes, it was a fine place to be and learn, to get ideas for poems, stories, and pictures. And to naturally expand consciousness.
The first memory was of a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey pin, blue and white, just the outline of the leaf if I remember correctly. And there was another one, circular with a blue background and a white leaf, again, if I recall correctly. This was all practically another lifetime ago, the late 1970’s and early to maybe middle 1980’s. I liked those pins, and some had a safety pin type apparatus at the back while others had a straight metal part that one put a clip or metal end on.
A few times my cousin and I walked to one of the convenience stores and bought a pin or two. I can see in the mind’s eye the other NHL teams, smart and well-made pins, twenty-one teams then. I recall The Philadelphia Flyers one, The Washington Capitals, those two especially for some reason. And there was another All Stars one, maybe designating the NHL all-star game held once a year, I think.
Later, having achieved the highest level for my age group, Major, also called AAA, the teams I played for, Mississauga Blackhawks, Wexford Raiders, and Toronto Red Wings, went on numerous tournaments. Sometimes the organizations gave each player a bunch of pins to trade with the other teams. I’d end up with many pins from all over. I put them on cloth, a few cloths in fact, for safe keeping. These cloths with all kinds of hockey pins I had for a long time but have misplaced them. Sadly, I don’t know where they went.
The hockey pins represented sport and skill, of the heroes and greats, and later of my teams and travel and experience on the ice against all these teams. That was one level but there was a more simple and yet magical level also and it was the colour and style, the metallic feel and weight of the pin. They could go on jackets or sometimes trucker hats. I can’t remember what exactly made me remember the pins, but something somehow did. Maybe a dream. Maybe something in real life. Maybe some angel of sport or pin or an angel of time itself…
Beyond the Extraordinary or of Joseph Conrad (Experience, Language, Hard Work, and Genius)
Many of the scholars and documentaries and such rightly claim that numerous things contributed to Joseph Conrad’s highly successful and monumental canon of literature. They point out his multiple languages, plus a passion for the sea and written word, and the study and hard work, plus an immense dedication to craft and truth both. But, though that’s all obviously true, in reading him there is something more, and it’s that he was possessed of genius. And in two ways.
One part of his genius was in seeing, and he himself said that above all he wanted to make people see. And the other half was in expression, in writing. He saw and he wrote. Many people speak multiple languages, and several are writers and poets, but is there anyone that can turn every sentence into gold like Conrad? Little or few. And in a climate modern where sparseness and brevity is lauded as a fashion for some odd reason, his golden descriptive sentences shine even brighter, turning the idea of telling a story into something immensely valuable. Conrad can show the way back to true storytelling and literature.
Therefore, it is a sea worker’s life and experience, the languages, the interest, and hard work, but, nature or God also added genius to the mix. If you look closely, even though there are several that can turn sentences that are extraordinary, there are few that can go beyond the extraordinary into something else entirely.
The long and wide sea, full of mystery and magic and danger amidst its beauty. Great is its countenance. Maybe nobody described it such as Joseph Conrad. The sometimes-dark sea, saturnine and rueful. Sea. Ocean. The sands in the shores. All linked together. The world of the water. Vessels. Imagine the coral and the fish, sharks and whales, or the shipwrecks and sunken treasures perhaps ghosts, the phantoms of the depths and saltwater, roam with no need of breathing apparatus. Go and look spirit…pirate first mate captain mere honest passenger who paid their way and was so innocent and unassuming. What millions of secrets still?- UFO bases? Airplanes never found. Unknown species. Sea sea sea. Stories of the sea. Wild. Ocean. To wander its shores and think of it all.
