Mushrooms Shut Up

I realise that I have to keep running after talking to Alice. I need to be fit to chase the White Rabbit one day.

There are mushrooms that you are not able to see. They must be shutting up like a telescopic lens. Alright, they too are magnified so dramatically that you see them only as big pillars.

You have to have the right size accordingly. Look for a bottle marked "potion"; look for, oh no, you do not recognize mushrooms so you just cannot choose and decide to eat which side of a round mushroom.

But first of all, you must be ready at no time, for the rabbit will appear before you at anytime.

And if you meet the White Rabbit now, he will greet you "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year".

I am a small pebble

"The more he seeks to rise into the height and light, the more vigorously do his roots struggle earthward, downward, into the dark, the deep - into evil."

Miniature mushrooms are given no time advantage to pursue the same challenge, both skyward and earthward. Strategically they go radiant, their beauties ripple the blogosphere, their traits travel eastward, westward, northward and southward.

I remain at the centre.

I am a small pebble.

Past, Present and Future

There is a mushroom that holds the clue to a dreamland. There is a spider that weaves a web of stories of the dreamland  around the mushroom.

I am searching for the mushroom.

But mushrooms live very shortly. Does this mushroom belong to the past, live in current time, or yet to emerge? The legend purportedly keeps the answer by itself.

I am still searching because my present has been misplaced, the future becomes past tense when the place might be right,  and the past which I failed to catch up is forever a hintless past.

Until the parallel lines of space and time converge, and become a H, only then we will see each other in the dreamland.

Everything is Possible

I realise that my mushroom friends are just mirroring my thought.

But then I am still doubtful whether we dream only during sleeping.

And only a physical run that we call it an exercise.

Looking at their slimness, the mushrooms must be very exhausted by having a running mind even in dreams.

And they always dream in a stand-still position.

Everything is possible in life.

Marathon

While I was having my marathon, mushrooms in the jungle were running and panting as well.

Both mushrooms and I like running.

Running, though amidst a big crowd, is a lonely sport. Only my muscles are talking me, and this becomes moaning in the end. Mushrooms must have experienced this.

But we know,  one step after another, we shall reach the finishing line sooner or later.

And I did it last Sunday. 42.2km in 6 hours and 16 minutes.

Yin And Yang

So mushrooms are mushrooms, and we are ourselves. No war or domination.

Mushrooms focus on mushrooming in a mazy manner, one short life after another, with or, for most of the time, without limelight.

I enjoy searching them regularly, shooting their macro views, and boosting our relationship, though it seems superficial enough.

Thus wild returns to the wild, civilized continues to boost around.

Yin and Yang forever complement each other.

World Domination

What if mushrooms dominate the world? Their superiority will prevail. Every nook and cranny will be stuffed with their hyphae.

When we think the reign of mushrooms is well over, they will sneak back under the cover of darkness.

When we think their life is short, they propagate faster than we can think. Our bodies and faces will be colourful with a variety of mushrooms mushroom prosperously.

What if mushrooms dominate the world?

Change will continue, either towards our favour or vice versa.

Walking CCTVs

Ants are walking CCTVs, they scurry  across multi-dimensions, and spy on every action made by mushrooms, so much so the latter get very annoyed and lose their patience, "they send up more mushroom periscopes into our world to seek new thrones to conquer", but the mission is far too premature. 

Though tiny and hidden, because I am well informed and prepared, these mushrooms are now held as prisoners of war in my memory card.

  

The ants have saved mankind and our civilization!

The age of mushrooms does not realize. World history is not changed.

Life Waveform

I believe in the existence of fourth dimension, where mushrooms hide in the dry seasons. 

How crazy I am to have a bee in my bonnet,  the mushrooms remain silent, silent and absent, except for the big black ants. But they are too busy to bother about my presence. 

A heavy load their pencil, they are creating a waveform of their life, though I am only seeing a moment.

The ups and downs of the pattern synchronize with their rises and falls on the slope. 

I am a minute dot along the waveform, though very big body size as compared to theirs.

Tech-Savvy

Web construction involves millions of webmasters in the forest is overwhelming. The power of WWW is as explosive as a nuclear bomb.

Thus I see a webmaster is expanding its complicated but beautiful website. "I want more traffic!"

News spreads, and enthusiastic visitors are attracted and get addicted. 

A butterfly who is one of them, ends up spending its life with an open web forever.

It used to feel proud as a tech-savvy butterfly.

Webs

Always hearing about web and its total power, my enthusiastic mushroom friends find themselves so overwhelmed one morning.

They are standing right below a variety of webs: some spiral outward like spokes on a wheel, some look like funnels of doom or harps, while others run thin strands parallelly.

These are beautiful but never catch their eye.

These mushrooms want to know more about me, yet struggle with the webs.

"Is a start button required?"

Flower Thoughts

There are tears of sadness and, ironically,  also tears of happiness. They can be salty or plain taste.

Raindrops are tears of flowers. While overloaded, being magnified but indecisive are grace or sorrow.

But the power of tears enlarges the finest beauty of flowers.

Final Moment

A flower felt very fabulous one whole night, and so carried along by great tides, high, so higher and so low.

It lived in a long dream; long but with an ultimate end which was not known when it would be.

Then it ended regretfully, left behind imprinted memory of struggling separation of the flower from the plant; a difficult and torturing process.

Wind blew, the flower flew from sight, and diminished.

My mom has passed away peacefully last Sunday morning.

Pictographic Snoring

A spider's snoring and only a spider's snoring is pictographic.

Zzz...

A little mushroom, as has always been taught, thinks the other way round: there's a will there is a  way. It puffs out its cheeks repeatedly and breathes so forcefully that it turns all purple.

Yet nothing happens, but it never knows, and I shall not tell.

Its dream only comes true in a dream.

New Energy

They got married and that happened secretly while I was busy taking care of my mom, and so was the dating; did they date under the moonlight or in warm summer days? Candlelight dinners or spicy lunches?

I only knew then when their house was built on my Bougainvillea plant. Inside it I spotted two new babies who made little noise and with eyes closed.

They did not have trust in me. They kept refusing me in a high tone.

They did not understand that I only wanted to take some pictures of the newborns. Those are signs of new energy.

Mother and Son

A mother mushroom and her son are seen both lying in embrace in a warm morning. This is one of the serene scenes that mushrooms have exhibited, but leaves fall and flowers wither, where will the mother and son be then?

Are there any hospitals in their world? ICU? Doctor's cruel diagnosis as in mine?

These are surely helpless scenes if there are any, and always be the most difficult parts of our journey.

(My mom has been suffering from pneumonia for a month)

Spilled Moon

Moon was full, it over spilled. 

l found a portion of it in this morning in the jungle. They were now mushrooms. 

Falling so heavily, helping hands of winds, they were scattered and never got their shape back, but the yellow did not turn pale. 

Once moon, they are forever moon. They will disappear when I come back again. I shall look up and they will then be moon again.

A Little Mushroom

My murmurs have crept into its subconscious.

Dreaming non-stop about the magical rabbit hole of  Alice's Wonderland, getting inspired always by Indiana Jones's adrenalin-pumping adventures, a little mushroom is saying good-bye to me.

It wants to start its own journey.

I do not know so cannot tell how and where it will end up, but this novice holds strong to its belief.

In our life there are many awesome moments, the little cutie needs only one, and it never turns back.

July Symphony

I walk into one Saturday of July, a morning of sunshine mingled by the breeze, and everywhere are the pulses of life eagerly to mark their presence. 

Hello here and there, they shout silently, auto focus and clicking of the shutter interweave symphonically. 

They are different, they are same; They are mushrooms, they are new sprouts; they are the dancing morning spirits looking for a peaceful piece of wonderland.

I love this Saturday morning.

That is Complicating My Life

If Nature talks and I know it does, it would tell that brightness is given, but we turn it into darkness. When darkness falls, we have it painted with blue-tinged brightness.

I waited carefully for the silent murmurs of mushrooms, but there are not any. It may be their dinner time right now. No spare mouth.

"That is complicating my life." They would say otherwise.

Short-tailed Macaque Monkey

I am kind of very cautious, making each step forward with so much calculation and observation.

I had been chased by a short-tailed macaque before, so fiercely, just to confirm my short but powerful legs.

We both stared at each other. Its easiness was unconvincing, and my anxiety seemed unnecessary, but I rather to be fooled now than to be fooled later.

"Is it that great to photograph a monkey？"

The mushrooms followed this silent comedy.

"They only know monkeying around, but you are now Charlie Chaplin."

Past Mushrooms Images

No photos from last Saturday, not because the mushrooms have gone for vacation, nor I tended to neglect them that I see every week. 

I like exerting to the fullest and, at the same time, scouting around for mushrooms when going uphill, only slow down for photography when walking downhill. Mushrooms were many, photogenic. Same were clouds. 

But clouds fell heavily as rains. I have to run the fastest for my camera, faster than I did in the marathon. 

Clouds were still falling when I reached home. My camera was not crying. No tears, luckily, inside the backpack.

Run

I ran away from mushrooms last Sunday morning, and I kept running from four-thirty to seven-thirty.

There was no hatred, we are still friend, but I chose to run.

Did the mushrooms get stuck again while I was running free? How good they would be if they were with me in the Penang Bridge Half Marathon? Regretful for not having a lolling tongue?

I told them my breakthrough will come this coming November. At the age of fifty-four, I am going to run my first ever full marathon, 42.2km.

Don't laugh. I am serious, as serious as a phone booth for superman, and a pee pole for a dog.

Bridges

Mushrooms whose pictures I was taking led me to a new photo opportunity. From the corner of my eye, at the edge of a rock, I saw a rare exoskeleton of a scorpion.

These mushrooms were more than a mushroom this time. Invisibly, they bridged me and the scorpion.

But not a sky bridge, it was accidentally exposed for minutes. I wondered whom it would bring together, as this time was not the time for Niulang and Zhinu to meet each other, otherwise Goggle must have updated me.

There are countless bridges around. We cross them day in and day out. We never know.

Hit Rock Bottom

It is yet to be the very bottom when you hit rock bottom. Dig a hole and go inside, you will find yourself way below the bottom.

Enjoy the aerial view; the world is so different and beautiful. Mushrooms told me.

Mushrooms spent most of their lifetime under the “bottom-line”; bored by the banging footsteps of hikers, irritated by their foul-smelling sweat, and sometimes, harassed by urine that monkeys urinate on themselves to attract a mate.

They would pop up one day, to see them in their very short life, dancing and embracing light, and to inspire us in different forms.