At my backyard

This is my favorite place of the house I lived in San Luis Obispo for nine months.
A cheap white plastic chair under an oak tree. Shade of an oak tree invites me to walk over the itchy dried grass with bare feet to sit in the light weight chair. I remember the first time I got here, I enjoyed sitting there almost every day, looking up at the sky through oak leaves that danced in sunlight and breeze. I was thinking about my life back at home and life that was going to unfold before me here at the new place. Sometimes I would sit there in early evenings, just to enjoy the cool night air of a fall or sometimes to call my family or friends. Time has gone by so fast an d I’m at the verge of summer now. Today, underneath the tree is like a back of a fawn full of white spots, from sunlight that passed through the leaves and got all spotty. Looking out from under the tree, cream-yellow banister of porch shines brightly. Thanks to my roommate, who loves flowers and gardening, the backyard has been always full of colorful flowers. Bright-red sweet peas, deep-violet petunias, shocking-pink geraniums, other purple, white, orange flowers… The oak tree shades me coolly and comfortably. This is where I have lived, fall, winter, and spring at age of twenty-one.

Underneath a great tree

June 5, 2007

The roots of the Rusty-leaf Fig Tree is twisting and streaming out of the earth, creating the look of flowing hot lava. But the roots are not hot at all – it is cool underneath the shade that is created by massive amounts of branches and leaves. Infinitely numerous leaves of the trees are offspring of this tree full of energy. Another striking about the tree is how far the branches spread outward from the trunk of the tree. It doesn’t take too long to figure out how tree does it – those far-spanning branches are emerging from tougher, thicker part of lower branches, which are connected steadily to the trunk of the tree. Resulting scene is a dynamic composition of hierarchy of size of branches.
Although it is a warm day, here under the shade of the tree is almost chilly. Ground of young grass I’m sitting on is moist, and right before me, bare soil that holds thick spreading roots of tree starts. Around me life at Cal Poly is moving on – People biking by, some at blinding speed and some leisurely, people walking, cars passing by…

At the Rose Garden, Cal Poly

At the rose garden, center of attention alternates. Sometimes it is the roses – the full bloomed baby-pink roses, shockingly-deep-red roses, or melancholic yellow roses. Some times it is the birds – the sleek, scrawny brown birds, which fly about the garden and sometimes seating near you on the wooden bench. Sometimes it is the refreshing, melodious sounds of water fall from the concrete water fountain.
The fountain has three parts – the longest part which is situated low between two more cubical and higher parts. The longest receives water falling from the other two. I love the sound of falling water. The sound resonates. The sound has joyful beats, and sometimes I think I hear singing voice of water spirit.
Bubbles the falling water creates on the moss green colored surface of the fountain water twinkles and runs around as more and more water falls among them. The mid-afternoon sunlight is getting hot. The roses of all kinds of color, gotten their moisture and dew during the night and the early morning, now shine their colors off under the honest, strong sunlight. At the same time, the roses are absorbing the sunlight with all their might, because from the nature – water, sunlight, dusty brown soil that they set their feet deeply in, ant the air – is what makes them live.

At El Chorro Park

June 2, 2007

Here among the cream- colored dry grass at El Chorro Park, I’m surrounded – surrounded by everything. First of all, there are these itchy dry-grass that I’m sitting amongst of – they are tickling my arm and poking my legs. And bugs buzz near my ears, circling around my head. And since I’m sitting in lower spot of the land, it feels like this land of cream colored dry grass will spread over me soon. And there are trees – the sycamore trees, pine trees and trees that I don’t know the name of – they are circling around this patch of land. The afternoon sun casts a shadow so that a quarter of the land, where I’m sitting on, is under the shade of a pine tree and a sycamore tree. Rest part of the land is shining gloriously golden under the soft sunlight, with the clearest blue early summer sky. The size of the clearing here I’m sitting on, is about the size of a living room. I’ve found a living room out here. I pick up a leaf near me, which has fallen from a sycamore tree. It is orange-yellow, and it is very furry and soft. At the borderline of shade, spotted shadow of trees moves with breeze as if the shadow was drawn on water. Finally, when I lift my head up and look around, the rolling grassland mountains with their patches of forest green and reddish green vegetations surround the area. I feel like I’m part of this clearing. At this moment, the trees are my friend – the pine tree that is quite short and has round shape over all, three other pines that are tall, few tall sycamore trees including that is right behind me, family of trees – a tall one, middle one, and two youngsters – that I don’t know the name of, a youngster pine tree few feet away from me…and bushes and grass… All singing softly under the afternoon sunlight in peaceful quietness.

At Dexter Lawn

Dexter lawn, in middle of the campus, serves as a resting point for many students. It is purely green grass and free of obstructions. Usually it is full of students, but today a sole person on it is me. This happens rarely. Surrounding the Dexter lawn are various buildings – Engineering West, Dexter Building, Business, Architecture and Math and Science Building. These surrounding buildings give Dexter Lawn a feeling of huge, sunny courtyard. Lying down low on the grass, quality of breeze is awesome. It contains the sweet, tangy and moist smell of grass. To the west, slowly setting afternoon sun is shining down upon me. Sky is so blue, with occasional wisp of cotton clouds floating in them. Across and towards a radiating afternoon sun, trail cloud that an airplane left behind creates dynamic line of white wisp across the sky. I sit up and look up towards the top of the big tree that is like a guardian of the Dexter lawn. The tree is funny. It is full of humor. With its tallness, it is looking over little people that is enjoy some time on the lawn. The tree is upright, without any bends, soaring towards the sky. Its many fingers, or hair, or numerous spirit of it, move in the breeze all in different directions. When I get near it, my shadow projects on the trunk, which is ash gray brown with greenish streaks on some of its barks. When I look up, its numerous needle leaves are creating a cooling roof over my head. And I find out, the branches that those leaves and smaller branches are attached are quite thin – you would imagine thicker branches to with-hold all those weights. But even they are thin, those branches have arrogant strength and steadiness in them, branching out gracefully straight out of the trunk.

At Pirates Cave, Avila Beach

Here at the Pirates Cave, weather today is warm and sunny. Water down below is deep dark green. The place seems quite a bit dirtier than last time I visited here. The rocks are more dusty, there are more trashes lying around, and water near rock is full of brown algae and salty foams. But the view is still pretty. Sky is light blue, and ocean water keeps coming in and breaking in to white foams and ripples when it heats sharp rocks that are embedded here and there beneath the cliff. Not very far from where I and my friend are sitting, there are two big white rocks that are serving as resting islands for sea gulls. The birds seem to e at peace – resting their white bodies on big great white rock out of the deep greenish-blue ocean, with white ripples and sun-washed waves surrounding them. The ocean is hypnotizing – giant blue smooth surface of fabric that is gracefully restless. Seagulls fly in harmony with rhythm of the movement of the fabric. They fly with their snow-white wings with gray patches on top moving gracefully in the ocean breeze. I, with my friend today, let in to this view of ocean by the cave, suddenly want to dwell here.

Quite a distance away from us, near the pier, clouds are gathering up and scattering. The clouds are almost fog like, misty and shiny. I wish I was a seagull, to be able to freely take off from this rock I’m seating, to be able to fly over the giant blue body of water, to the misty field of cloud.

Not at the Cheda Ranch

May 31, 2007

I missed the road that goes to the Cheda ranch house. Instead, I passed the rail road structure- which was breathtaking. The scale of the structure was beautiful – the scale itself made me want to stand under it or near it, or faraway from it, to enjoy its presence in the surroundings. And how the structure has aged with rust and the size of bracings that are placed to make the grand structure stand up was mesmerizing. So past the structure, I kept on going for a while. I was waiting for some kind of ranch hose to show up but the road was without any apparent human dwelling for quite a while. I finally got to the lodgings situated beneath the road surrounded by hill and trees, at the right fork of the road where it started to divide. I walked in to the yard and asked a man for the direction, yes, I had missed the Cheda ranch quite a while ago. So I turned back, little disappointed that I missed it so long ago, but nevertheless quite content that I had a nice walk. I started to walk back down, and at one point of the dirt road felt urge to just sit down. The road was very dusty! Blue sky above me is dusty light blue. It is probably dust rising from the road that veils the blue sky. Or maybe it is golden afternoon sun that gives the sky the dusty hue. Actually, the road side dust is not too bad either – they are generally settled down except when trucks pass by and arise them. Color here is greenish gold. The trees, their leaves softly lit from slowly setting sun, lines up the dirt road. How nice it is that this road takes up people into the mountains. Roads interest me, that how it is formed by people to get to places in most strategic way. And how people years and years after, not if generation after generation, follow that road, and how the road ages. Nature around the road becomes part of the road, aging with the road. Another appeal of the road is that it has an ending point, a destination. The reason I followed the road today even I didn’t see any lodgings for a while is because I thought if there is a road, it has to be leading to somewhere.

December at Yase by Gary Snyder

May 24, 2007

I MUST fall.
There would be a moment of
Bewilderment, and then,
A lifeless rumble down the cliff
To the glacier below.
My mind seemed to fill with a
Stifling smoke. This terrible eclipse
Lasted only a moment, when life blazed
Forth again with preternatural clearness.
I seemed suddenly to become possessed
Of a new sense. My trembling muscles
Became firm again, every rift and flaw in
The rock was seen as through a microscope…

Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.

From by Gary Snyder

The project I’m working on in my architecture studio is a music lab.
My concept for the project is a “penetration”. I strived to show broadening and shocking sense caused by one matter penetrating into the other matter, the sense of things becoming so much clearer, like crystallization. When I red the above passage, it really suited what I meant to do in my project. My penetration moment can be equal to the “terrible eclipse”. And things around you suddenly gain more presence, power and detail after the shocking event, like the rock appeared with such clearness to the person in the poem.

In the book , Abram talks about how we consider “magic” or “supernatural forces” isn’t something completely out of earth at all. Rather, its roots sprung from very depth of the earth, the land. So isn’t that moment of surprising clearness – seeing the details of the rock with such clearness – the moment of magic?
I thought about how other things in nature can be magical. For instance, how the hawk views the world and finds the direction will be very different from our methods. Its perception of size and color of things around it will be very different from ours, so if it is transcribed into the form that we can see, we will see something very surprising.

Pond

May 22, 2007

People are skillful. They constructed the scenery of waterfall of mountain in midst of Cal Poly. The sound of waterfall is melodious. How the water helps light reflect from water and alights things around – water grass, dark gray rock, even people who are sitting around the water now – is wonderful. In front of me, long leaves of water grass has band of light strips continuously moving up, which is visible by shadow strips alternating with them. About ten feet away from me, on the rough surface of the rock, there are light reflections of water ridge ring, radiating continuously from the center.
It seems like movements of light and shadow stripes on water grass is resulting from these water ridge rings, which comes from the ripples on the surface of water. Only difference is ripples on the rock is caused by waterfall falling into the pond, and ripples that’s happening on the water grass is caused by tiny fishes, creating the ripples when ever they dash in the water very fast and suddenly coming to a stop.

Near the rail road track

Railroad goes through breezy, quiet afternoon of the town.
There are lots of trees. First of all that come into the view on the way to the railroad track is a tree with ash-green leaves hanging down from the branches in bunches. And viewing from the other side of rail road track back to the way I walked, I suddenly become to realize how many trees are there in neighbor hood, showing off their unique beauties. The bishop’s peak is dustily glowing in afternoon sun behind the tall, skinny tree. The tree is a tall, lanky one that looks too skinny to be that tall and still standing up. If compare to a human form, he must be tall, little bit shanty or maybe little bit drunk. Not too good looking. But I think it has the wild, delicate kind of beauty. Someone in the apartment right behind the tree is going wild with a drum set. There is another strong turn of breeze. San Luis Obispo is a windy county. My roommate it not very fond of its windiness even she likes the area in general. She’s getting old, so I understand if she doesn’t like the wind too much. Anyways, I like how the wind here is strong just enough to plat music. The music of whistling dry grass, trees and bushes. The music is sometimes very slight, and becomes strong as more and more plants around start to chip in. And as the plants move back and forth and whistle, some of them start to catch sunlight in a way that it makes fabric of shining petals. And they all have different hues. Some of them are shiny grass green. Some of them are shiny reddish green.

At Laguna Lake - 2

Thumb, thumb. The deck shakes with waves of the lake (this kind of deck moves with waves of water – rather than anchored to ground, it is anchored to the bridge that allows the deck to move with wave). Sky is clear blue, with streaks of cotton-candy clouds going across like waves, like waves of lake. I like how I move with the wave (since I’m on this deck), it’s fun. Lake creates jewels of sunlight on their ever moving waves, jewels those keep appearing and disappearing and appearing again…
The thousands of dips made on lake’s surface by chilly, clear breeze create a beautiful fabric, bejeweled with thousands and thousands of ephemeral sunlight jewels.
I want to run across it.
Tall water grass, various trees, and walkways (with people occasionally passing by); lake-side houses and distant mountain ranges surround the lake. Little leaves and branches of trees near the foot of lake are just few feet away from me. How harmonious!
An airplane goes across the sky. It flies straight. Little birds fly low over the lake, souring high, dropping sharp, going back and forth, they are one body with the wind.
I want to fly, too.

Long grasses of the grass land gleam as they move with the wind. They create a beautiful music, with whistles and their gleaming waves. The gleaming waves go across, across the vast field.
Right at this moment, whistles of grasses, leaves of trees, singing of birds, and humming of small airplane up in the sky, and growing whistles of wind fills this time and space. Big black falcon flies slowly across the field, its wing gracefully spread and carrying him on the wind…
Mountains are clear and pastel colored under the warm ray of sunlight. Distant mountain ranges are misty. This afternoon sets with this scene illuminated with sunshine and whistles of the wind.

At Laguna Lake

I’m near the foot of Laguna Lake. The big body of water, illuminated a little by dusk that’s almost gone now, resembles the color of the sky. Deep, little bit of sad, blue sky with glowing light magenta at the bottom. The water is constantly moving, absorbing light and air of surrounding. Right next to the lake, a black tree’s presence is like of a black night. Wind is chilly, it embodies everything within it, coming slow, and next moment a bit faster. Lake is constantly moving, its long, horizontal ridges of waves and thousands of smaller waves are part of music played by this evening wind. Birds become quite an acrobat in this swirl of wind – it amazes me how swiftly and lightly they can fly. Grass land with long grasses (some of them coming up to height of my chest). A building (it is a restroom unit), at the other side of grass land, right there at the foot of gentle hill, has knightly and mystical trees at the back. The building glows. It glows with warm, cold, deep and saturate orange in this cold evening air, in this growing darkness. I look up. Against deep blue sky, moon is a waxing gibbous. It is almost full.

At Rockslide Ridge

I am surrounded by rolling hills. I’m up at Rockslide Ridge. Green trees are rolling down along the ridge of a distant mountain range. Right next to me, straight, long grass that comes up to my knee (I’m seating down), dances along with soft, soft breeze.
The mountains are grand and gentle. From here I can look down to the Poly Canyon. I see the experimental structures built by students, which felt quite big when I was in them, seems like a child’s toy, tiny. I am so small compared to nature. I feel I’m surrounded by primordial bigness, magnificence but still gentle, beauty.
We are so small, but world within us are so deep, big and unknown. Why it this? Why such small creatures like dusts when compared to bigness of nature, feels like we have universe in our minds and souls? Why such turmoil of emotions and sorrows? Is this because we are the reflection of this nature, this universe?

At Morro Bay - 2

Crisp, jagged edge of the Morro Bay Rock (the surface is light-cream red, with darker reddish stains on most of it) meets the ray of late afternoon sun. There is smell of sea in the air, among the rush of warm sunlight. The moist sea breeze cool me down, even deep down into my mind. Seagulls fly around this beautiful mountain of rock. Those animals are so free and in harmony with nature.

I am seating on the rock just before the sea – the rock is dark gray, with numerous white spots. Rough, and warmed with late afternoon sun. The greenish-blue sea meets with distant mountains and horizon. The sun casts fairy mists on the rock - this delicate sculpture out of the earth. The sea, seagulls, and the rock seats peacefully under this late afternoon sunlight.

At Morro Bay

It is a chilly early spring afternoon. Here at Morro Bay, the Morro Bay Rock stands near the bay out of the sea, like a guardian spirit of the village. The scene is unreal but at the same time so real, its presence is breathable at every moment. Seagulls circle around it, and its jagged edge is crisp against gray sky. There are white stains on the rock surfaces- I heard that those result from water coming out of cracks in rainy season - and they match constantly breaking, foamy waves. Is this rock, standing high with elegance amongst cold winter sea breeze, have been standing here and endured the time. There are many seagulls, either perching in the wedges of the Rock at high places or freely flying around the Rock. The Rock is like a villa for them. They coexist happily. The nature has grown this piece of rock, appointing it to a meeting point of the sea and the land.

A tall, beautiful tree, soaring high above in front of me. When I encountered the tree, I couldn't help
but look up high into the sky, where the tree was soaring to. The dark, streaked outline of tree against grayish-white sky looked like a outline of a gate to a different world.

Here up in the Poly Canyon, graciously unfolding landscape invites me to the world of imagination.
Distant cry of crows and chirping of unknown little birds, along with whispering silence of breeze all accompany well with the landscape here.
Circling and intersecting paths of crows leave invisible mark in radiant silver sky- as if it is a representation
of time continuously freezing, layering over and over again.
The hills are so green. Their curves are so sensuous that as if a very careful sculptor formed and smoothed his clay with great gentleness until the curves are the way they should be. Light, sweet breeze wraps my skin and hair around. Little birds are continuously chirping. I sit here, watching, breathing, and listening.