bartyu19

The Bell

Ming had spent fifteen years teaching philosophy to students who would never understand it. He lectured on Socrates, Kant, Sartre—dead men wrestling with dead questions. Yet none of it touched the hollowness that had begun spreading through his chest like frost on a winter window. It all started with his mother’s funeral ten years ago.Continue reading “The Bell”

If Father has Forgotten Us

At our parents’ memorial niches Older Brother: Father has been dead for forty-seven years now. I believe he must have been reincarnated long ago—perhaps into a new life on another star. By now, he has probably forgotten everything about this life: us, his weaknesses, and all the times he was unhappy. Me: That is aContinue reading “If Father has Forgotten Us”

The Chance to Be Here

I am grateful to my parents for birthing me. Not because they raised me especially well — much of who I became was shaped by forces they neither chose nor controlled, and some of it in spite of them rather than because of them — but because they gave me the one thing no oneContinue reading “The Chance to Be Here”

Two Ways of Growing Old — Matisse, Picasso and What a Rival Is For

In December 2009 Banksy painted over a piece King Robbo had left on a Camden canal wall in 1985. Days later Robbo waded out and painted it back. That went on for two years — and it kept reminding me of an older quarrel, conducted more slowly and with better manners, between Matisse and Picasso.Continue reading “Two Ways of Growing Old — Matisse, Picasso and What a Rival Is For”

The Muffled Voice: When Writing Becomes a Performance

I once wrote on my blog about wanting my voice to be a star in the vast writing cosmos—wondering if, across the reaches of space and time, some distant reader might eventually catch its light like stardust drifting from a long-dead past. It was a romantic, pure vision of connection. But a strange thing happensContinue reading “The Muffled Voice: When Writing Becomes a Performance”

Odysseus Wasn’t a Macho Hero—And That’s Why He Survived

(This is a classic, evocative painting depicting Odysseus tied to the mast as he listens to the Sirens, capturing the exact tension between heroic vulnerability, temptation, and the power of the female figures who shaped his journey.) “The epic 2,800-year-old poem – now adapted for the big screen – is so much more than aContinue reading “Odysseus Wasn’t a Macho Hero—And That’s Why He Survived”

Where Our Tides Once Began

When I retired eight years ago, I did not expect nostalgia to arrive so quietly. Retirement felt like the turning of an era. For decades, work structured my days and quietly defined who I was. Then suddenly, that chapter closed. I would not say I felt old exactly — but I became aware that IContinue reading “Where Our Tides Once Began”

What Remains, What Passes

A short story I It was in one of those days when, in his dreams, Benny came home and Jimmy, his elder brother, was standing at the doorway and opened the gate for him. The amber light drew him in, its glow falling across an array of familiar things — objects all jumbled together blurredContinue reading “What Remains, What Passes”

What Is Nirvana? What Is Buddhahood?

Nirvana, or Buddhahood, cannot be fully comprehended through concepts, language, or ordinary thought. Words function within the realm of distinctions—self and other, existence and non-existence, birth and death. Buddhahood, however, transcends such dualities. Therefore, any attempt to define it as we define ordinary experiences will inevitably fall short. It is especially misleading to think ofContinue reading “What Is Nirvana? What Is Buddhahood?”

What Remains When Nothing Stays

There are moments — usually the quiet ones, never during the daily grind — when a strange kind of clarity slips in. It’s like the world loosens its grip for a second, and you suddenly see your life from a slight distance. Not dramatically. Just… clearly. For me, it often starts with a memory. SometimesContinue reading “What Remains When Nothing Stays”