by White Cloud
Rochester Hills, Michigan
Putting on a pair of Chinese slippers I walked over to my table and with a pencil started writing, on a white paper, a letter to Dr. Weo Chen. Our talk last night still echoing the secrets of Feng-Shui. Was it destiny, luck, Feng-Shui, philanthropy, education or simply yin and yang?
The yellow dragon appeared on the sixteenth of January (8+8) with ch'i and the cosmic dragon's breath of the universe mingling with mauve Iris near the pond, where carp with their ability to swim upstream against the flow of the water in a circular flow of ch'i in the 12 earthly branches between 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. in the Year of the Dog, approaching the Chinese New Year in February.
My style is to put off and wait, he said, when he didn't call. China wall mixed with Brooklyn Bridge. Truth or Shanghai?
The seasons fit in naturally with the branches and indicates the best times of the year for initiating projects connected with building or burying. I used the omen of the black crow's shadow to cross the water (shui) with ten thousand things to tame the river half way through branch tzu (due north) using white blossoms of Azaleas, Star Jasmine, Geraniums and Oleanders, dried to spread on the tortoise treasuring the magic moment.
Simple like uncarved wood, I took over a gift of my book of poems in a brown envelop addressed to Dr. Wei Chen, serene, beyond desiring, dwelling in Rochester Hills. Red symbolic of happiness, associated with the south, was the lucky color.
We had met on a day which was full of double hours. He said he could not register because he did not have the professor's signature and could not get a ride before the winter solstice.
The flow of ch'i and the owl's tail appeared as arrows striking my lip and I said I'll give you a ride. Stunned, he too was caught in the magic square. He wrote down that I should meet him at Ford Hospital where he was doing research in diagnostic nuclear imagery.
I know that a bird can fly, that fishes swim, that animals can run. Things that run can be caught in traps. What can swim can be trapped in nets. Those that fly can be shot down with arrows. But what to do with a dragon I do not know. It rises on the clouds and wind. Today I met Wei Chen and he is like the dragon.
All was planned for the next day. He called at night and laughed about the same yellow dragon cabin. The emperor's palace, he said. White dew on the plum blossoms when Lu Chih, poet and painter, failed his Civil Service exam and retired to a mountain retreat to devote his life to painting. He gave his paintings away to friends but refused to sell a single one. 1496-1576, China.
Silk threads were woven between heaven and earth at the beginning. It is still earthly. The opposites of yin and yang more dangerous than auspicious. He is Chinese. I am Iranian-American. He is male. I am female. He is from Shanghai. I am from X'ian. I am Orion. He is big Dipper. T'ai yang is the sun. T'ai yin is the moon.
In the spirit of Alchemy (sol and luna) the red bird of the azure dragon lifts its wings above the white tiger as the dark warrior enters China and lets go.
The author, born Shirin Bakhtiar, is an artist and poet. She published her first collection of poems -- "White Cloud: A Book of Poems" -- last year.