Seeking the gate of heavenly peace

I nearly brought home an asylum seeker. You've already got preconceived notions about who I might be talking about...someone with no real status anymore, someone who can't work, , you might have an image forming in your mind...what does he look like?

There was a young man, twenty-three years old in the reception of my office today. I wanted to bring him home, give him my bed to sleep in with it's clean crisp sheets and teddy bears to hug. I wondered if he'd slept in a brass bed before -I would take the couch. I wanted to take him to Chinatown and buy him the best meal he'd ever had. Dim sum perhaps, watch him chew on chicken feet in black bean sauce if that's what he wanted to eat. Get him a beer, would he want Tsing-Dao or would a Stella suffice? He was Chinese, spoke good English...had heard of the Congo. Was a very sweet, unassuming man trying hard not to let despair rise up through his throat and end up as tears in his eyes. All he wanted was a place to sleep at night...to be considered a human being.

I have a massive amount of respect for my colleagues who work day in, day out with people who are like the man I met today, they often meet people who are probably in worse situations. I do not know how they deal with the constant tales of human suffering. I'm sure I would not be able to do what they do, I'd want to bring them all home and cook them dinner.

I came home feeling very rich and also wretched in some ways. I often lament that I haven't had a holiday in a year, that I don't have this or that but I know how well off I am. I've never gone hungry, I overeat. I eat enough to feed myself and the homeless man. I have never had to beg to have a place to sleep. Or ask strangers for help because I've no friends or family to turn to. I found out during Refugee Week that China is in the top ten countries where refugees come from. I was shocked...the land of my ancestors. Surely not. The young man today was totally alone, there doesn't seem to be any network available locally for Chinese asylum seekers or refugees. A lot of the other refugees and asylum seekers seem to be able to at least communicate with each other, sign post, refer and advise in their own languages, at the very least that is something.

My eight months of Chinese language study did not come in very handy, I could understand him when he spoke and knew he had repeated (to my Chinese friend on the phone) what he had told us in English. But I could not speak back to him. I was mute. I was impotent.

Rollerskating with Thor....

Well, today I went rollerskating with Thor, God of Thunder...only kidding. I didn't hang out with anyone today, mortal or divine.

I painted a little whilst the neighbours were quiet (for once). The kids have kicked the football over and I haven't thrown it back over the fence. I'm being mean! If I throw it back then the incessant thump thump against the wall will begin again and I'll go insane with annoyance. There is a beautiful park in walking distance, actually two parks.
Kids + Park = Good.
Peace + Quiet = Very Good.
I'm only thirty and I've turned into an old moaning woman already. I can put up with some noise, but I can't compete with thump thump...

I painted what turned out to be a green swirl. I really love it, the swirl and painting in general. When I was five years old I won an art competition at school, my picture of Red Riding Hood (her middle name was 'Riding'?) was put on the wall in Selly Oak Library (built in 1905 people). I was so proud to have it displayed for everyone to see. I won another art competition the same year and was given a five pound note as a prize. I bought some blue leg warmers...I never wore them. I don't remember painting after that little spell back in 1982.

Oh I watched 'Iris' last night and bawled my eyes out! It was an amazing film. I cried not so much because of her deterioration but because of the love between the character John (Iris Murdoch's husband) and the main character, Iris. It was so deep, I'm sure that in real life it surpassed even the film's depiction. I rarely write about love in my stories and if I do it's usually a complicated entity that is prodded and altered by external forces. Someone once told me 'd write books of love. I don't know where he got that idea from. I think I'll pick up some Iris Murdoch novels and see what she wrote about.

Window Shopping with Kuan Yin - Part II

Part II

I ate my noodles, the bowl held up near my face, my chopsticks swept the squirmy strands into my mouth. Kuan Yin placed her chopsticks down and let out an audible burp.
"Ah. I am satisfied. I feel so happy now." She looked peaceful and content. She placed her hand on my shoulder as I finished the last noodle.
"Nice?"
"Not bad, could have been more soy sauce."
"I did not realise how much I had missed the delicate taste of fish. The Japanese, they're so cultured."
"Yeah, well so are the Chinese," I could feel myself becoming defensive and competitive, "we invented dim sum you know - it means 'a little piece of heart'. It's pure perfection." Of course, she already knew this but she let me speak, she felt no malice, no need to justify her love of sushi.
"You know you will write about me one day. Not to make me famous, but to spread joy and laughter." I looked at her, putting down my empty bowl. She looked serious.
"Well, I don't know about that. I don't usually write about deities. " I hadn't told her my thoughts of giving up writing for a while to concentrate on singing. I wanted to start my own Chinese ABBA tribute band.
"That is why you will write about me, to let people know who I am and what I am here for."
"I know you're a goddess and all, but I'm sure you lot have got a whole marketing department that does that kind of thing anyway." She smiled and got down from her stool. I did the same.
"Shall we go window shopping?" she said linking her arm around mine.
"Yes, let's get out of here." It was comforting having Kuan on my arm - a mother, sister and friend rolled into one.

We paid and moved away from the sushi bar with it's conveyor belt. Kuan Yin's empty plates were stacked high like the leaning tower of Pisa, threatening to fall at any time.

Shoppers brushed past us unaware that the goddess of mercy and compassion floated in their midst. To them, we just looked like another couple of Chinese girls window shopping. Their heads were consumed by thoughts of iPods and Rocket Dog shoes, the new Heroes dvd boxset and three for two offers on knickers at La Senza. I felt sad that no one could see my friend's divinity, even the glass ceiling with the sun's rays shining through could not illuminate a light in comparison to that of Kuan's.

Window Shopping with Kuan Yin

Today, I went to the Bull Ring with Kuan Yin, it was her first time. She descended from a cloud that hovered above our meeting point by the Bull statue. Usualy, Emo kids meet when they're not hanging out by the cathedral, and Asian tourists are snap happy with their cameras smiling at Birmingham's very own sacred (male) cow. But today a mist obscured my view of the passers by as Kuan held her hand out to me. I helped her down and gave her a hug. It had been quite some time since our last day out, we had gone to Merry Hill during the sales. She was looking good, slimmer than last time. Rosily glowing like a baby's face after they've passed wind.

We walked around Selfridges food court pulling each other's sleeves, prying one another away from sweet temptations offered by Krispy Kreme donuts and rainbow coloured Jelly Bellys. We're on diets -Kuan Yin and I. Together we weigh in at three hundred and thirty three pounds. We're heavyweight deities for sure. Not that I am in her league where divinity is concerned, however, I like to think I'm fully stocked with a pint or two of strawberry flavoured compassion and over flowing with unconditional sherbet love. I'm imbued with an energy efficient white light of my own.

She told me that her weakness, despite the compassion she exudes - is sushi. Not terribly compassionate towards the dead, raw, skinned fish is she? The Yo! Sushi store caught her eye, she almost dropped her pearls. Her nose began to twitch like a cat sniffing out it's supper. Instantly, she forgot her sweet craving, the donuts became a past memory. Barging her way through the aisles, I followed picking up the debris that fell from the shelves. She knocked down three shelves of Oreo cookies imported from America. "£6.95" was stickered obnoxiously on the box teasing me to buy them. Arrogant fucking imports I thought as I put them back on the shelves. I preferred Hobnobs.

"I must have sushi," she cried.
"But Kuan, it's not friday. In England, fish is eaten on friday with chips and mushy peas. It's a tradition. If we don't live by British society's standards then they'll make us take a British Citizenship exam."
"I need fish. I've not had fish for three hundred and thirty-three years. Oh Tina, please can I stop for some Temaki and Unagi? I know we said we would not eat out but I will forever be in your debt. I can bestow your children with unending love and compassion. Eh? How does that sounds?"

I did want my children to be kind to others and share their sweets with those less fortunate. Perhaps a little sushi would be ok, it's only rice and raw fish. She wouldn't put on much weight with a couple of those diddy pieces, I thought.

"Ok, but I can't eat them with you. I had a bad experience once with raw fish."
I remembered how violently ill I had been after an ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT sushi buffet. I knew I shouldn't have rode on the Ferris wheel straight after, but I wanted to see the city lit up at night. "It was terrible, the worst food poisoning ever. But you have some sushi, I can have some soba noodles." I told her.
"I cannot thank you enough my dear Tina, your children will grow to respect others and share their love with all of humanity."
"Yeah, ok. Just don't make them into whores, I don't want them 'making love' to all of humanity. Got it?" I looked at her with slight apprehension.

English-Chinese translations often went horribly wrong. I had once tried to say: "I most love..." but instead I told my boss "I want to make love." My boss had looked very frightened by my amorous statement.

I had faith, but only up to a point. I had also been disappointed by other deities with their promises and extra limbs. Once, I was pruning a privet outside in the front garden, when I felt four hands grabbed my fleshy bits. I won't name names, but all I'll say is be wary of handsome gods with multiple digits.

Kuan Yin sat down on a high stool. The sushi dishes moved past her like traffic in a slow to medium paced race, the Unagi was beating the Maguro, whilst the Ikura was lagging way behind the California Rolls. It was making me feel sick, the constant movement of the pale reds and salmon pinks made me turn to face Kuan Yin. I watched as she torn the paper and freed her chopsticks, rubbing the wooden sticks together to remove any splinters. She became the worshipper instead of the worshipped, the worshipper of fish. Raw fish. She picked up dish after dish, tossing the sushi pieces into her wide mouth with glee. I eventually lost count, but I'd estimate thirty three at least. Her face emanated a kind of grace as she ate. I had never known fish to produce such effects before.

to be continued...

Flapjacks at midnight

Will I dream of oats or pitta bread? I've just scoffed down two flapjacks and two toasted pitta bread smothered in tomato puree. I had a stomach ache and instead of not putting anything else into my ailing stomach, I decided to add more food. It's past midnight and I've got the munchies. Wait. Not what you think. I've been no where near any illegal substances. I think it is a consequence of me simply being awake.

Eleven months and all is well

It's been eleven months since I posted my first blog on this here Blogger site. It all went tits up when they wanted me to get a GOOGLE account and it all seemed like too much hard work. I then proceded to lose the log in password, and then I didn't realise I could start a new account and attach the old blog to it. So finally after a few hours of mooching about looking for ways to link my old blog back to myself - I'm back baby! So much has happen since last October when I posted my first blog. I met my Chinese grandmother who is fantastic and I love her very much. I met about twenty more members of my biological family, I got a place on the National Academy of Writing Course, I got a part-time job with the British Red Cross, I moved house, stopped taking driving lesssons and I've had work published in various places. Oh, I've not been on a plane either. That's unheard of in the World of Tina Freeth because I usually end up on at least four planes a year. I'm desperate for a holiday but I've got work and writing committments until mid-October at the earliest.

Oh, I almost forgot I've got my own website!!!

http://www.tinafreeth.com/

I'm very proud to say I did it myself. It's blood red, a bit like a whore's boudoir! But I like it. I've got a blog on there but all I seem to write about is food, maybe I should use it to write about my writing more and use this to talk about what I had for dinner...