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Not a Tourist

by apsara 

Posted: 19 May 2006
Word Count: 106

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I walk in this country, an empty jar,
a monk who accepts only what he is given;
rice, sweetmeats, vegetables all jumbled up
in the bottom of his brass bowl.
I eat them mindfully.
I look through surfaces and observe
the patterns of molecules and how they change
with the surrounding noise.
My mind is a freshly polished table
attracting dust. The tones of
people's voices play the keyboards of my ear.
A gnarled old tree, I let myself
be rained and shone upon, let the breeze
rustle the leaves of my emotions,
not trying to understand, but waiting
for this country to speak to me.

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Comments by other Members

joanie at 17:22 on 20 May 2006  Report this post
Hi apsara! Apologies; I thought I had commented on this. I love the circular feel of the first and last lines.

My mind is a freshly polished table
attracting dust.
is a wonderful idea.

Is this a particular country you have visited/are about to visit, or is it just an idea or a philosophy?

It's excellent. I want to travel this country with you and feel this! In fact, I might just print this out and meditate on it before I go away anywhere!


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