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BANGOR HAIBUN
Bangor Haibun: Project
On the threshold between February and March, I walk back from a visit to a dear friend. The shadow of overhanging branches on this deserted stretch of road gives way to a familiar path, brightly lit - and welcoming. Two young men pass me by on the other side of the road, lost in a midnight conversation.
Have I been wandering all winter? Already, the cold feels more bearable, and the rising sun feels not so far away. I do not quicken, but my footsteps are lightened.
The Spring approaches.
Bangor Haibun: Text
Silver lights and gold
Arrow on a ruined sign
Pointing the way home
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Bangor Haibun: Text
It is a habit whenever walking to or from my house on a particular part of Ffriddoedd Road that, like a soldier on parade, I must turn my head to face the southeast.
There was once a school building there, but some years ago it was demolished, and the rubble neatly broken down and heaped in a flat pile where it once stood. It stands to this day, a deserted parking lot.
With nothing left to obstruct the view, one may now walk up and down that street and see the valley below, the hill across, and the mountains beyond.
There is a saying: "No two sunsets are the same."
Back home, I would live for the sunsets, tarrying wherever I was for that glorious moment when the tropical sky would be emblazoned with colours of gold and red painting the clouds and the world below.
Here, such sunsets are rare and fleeting - but the mountains do not move, whatever the weather.
On a night such as this, with the full moon high in the cloudless sky illuminating the mountains, hill, and valley, one feels as though one has stepped into a painting; the waking dream of a slumbering world.
Tonight, I am reminded of when I used to live on that hill, where the distant lights twinkle like the distant stars above, when I began my first year here in Bangor.
How clearly I remember it now, as I begin what may be my final year, here, in Bangor.
Bangor Haibun: Text
Silent starlit sky
Watercolour mountain range
Passed by in moonlight
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Bangor Haibun: Text
I walk briskly down a side path. It is the first warm, sunny day in a while, and my first proper appointment in months. As usual, I am late.
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I have decided to wear my nice khaki blazer and my old green Maciejowka cap, with its brown leather visor. There was a time, before the world ground to a halt, when I wore it almost as a daily uniform - but when lockdown began, I set it all aside. No more official in-person meetings, no more need to project a persona, I was tired of such attire. But today, after almost a year, I have taken the old outfit up once more.
When going to the dentist, it is not fitting that my external appearance should reflect the state of my teeth!
Half an hour later, I ascend the hillside path from the dental practice. My thoughts are burdened with knowledge of cavities, my wallet fifty pounds lighter. It has been years since my last check-up, and this past winter has been especially hard on my health. I had delayed going at first for lack of time and energy - and then, for lack of currency.
Now, in the spring, I find I have both in sufficient supply. It is my health, now, in need of replenishing.
I turn up Ffriddoedd Road, and - out of habit - I look to the southeast.
Bangor Haibun: Text
​
Snow-capped mountaintops
Untouched by cold wind and rain
Ah, my aching teeth...
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Bangor Haibun: Text
This morning, I take tea in my back garden. A cool breeze blows as I bask in the warm sunlight. My sleep has been bad lately, as has been the weather. Today, however...
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Taking the advice of a friend, I sit in the sun and breathe the fresh air. The tea is just an excuse.
I sit on the concrete half-wall as my feet rest on the concrete floor. Weeds and moss grow in the cracks between the barren slabs. My old bird feeder, long neglected, lies rusting where the wind blew it last. It has been a while since the birds perched in the trees.
Looking up at the trees, I notice for the first time the budding of new leaves. Out of the corner of my eye -
Bangor Haibun: Text
My neighbour's garden
What beautiful spring blossoms
Swaying in the wind
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Bangor Haibun: Text
I kneel on the carpet, having finished the noon prayer. The weather has been pleasantly warm and dry this past week. It is twenty degrees Celsius in my living room. Something the British call a 'heatwave'.
I know I have been here too long - I do not even feel cold! How will I bear the thirty degree warmth of the tropics - if I ever return?
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I rise to water the orchid on my windowsill, and the dragon tree beside it. The orchid, my landlord bought years ago on impulse. Worried for its health, I have cared for it ever since. The dragon tree, however, I have been plant-sitting for a friend since lockdown began. Both need only occasional watering, and their privacy.
I water them whenever I can remember. They do not complain.
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It is warm enough now that I move to let in some fresh air. Past the swaying palm tree before my window, I see into the front garden with fresh eyes.
Bangor Haibun: Text
Watering house plants
Basking in the spring sunlight
Red rosebush in bloom
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Bangor Haibun: Text
My friend came by today to collect their dragon tree. After a year, it has grown considerably. Perhaps it enjoyed itself. I am sad to see it go, but I have been rewarded with a sketch of a grumpy cat. It now sits on the windowsill, where the sun may shine on it. Perhaps I shall water it - whenever I can remember.
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Tonight, as I rise from the night prayer, I go to that very windowsill to take up my spectacles. The shadow of the swaying palm fronds falls upon my face as the evening wind blows. A small light above me pierces through the darkness into my window.
A street lamp!
Bangor Haibun: Text
Without spectacles
A distant light through the leaves
That is not the moon!
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Bangor Haibun: Text
Now that the days are warmer, I have taken to wearing my worn-out khaki blazer, with the fraying shoulders and cuffs, when I go on errands.
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During lockdown, I felt my edges wearing away into a formlessness. My hair and beard have grown, following the example of my waist. My clothes were chosen for their loose comfort, not their presence. My rigid pretensions, unfrozen, at last began to melt away. Finally, I am learning to live without them.
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I look in the mirror before leaving the house, and I notice the clear lines of my blazer giving my body its old form. Had I truly become as formless as I felt? Or had I always been this way, and - encased in outer appearances - fooled myself the way I had fooled others?
On the walk home, up Ffriddoedd Road, I turn to face the southeast. In the bright sunlight, melted snow has given way to all the shades of the earth, layer upon layer, weaving across the horizon.
Whatever the season, whatever the weather, the mountains stand doubtless.
Bangor Haibun: Text
Weathering the year
Wearing mist, snow, shadow, sun
Still the mountains are
Bangor Haibun: Text
Bangor Haibun: Text
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