Whispering of Willows 39

By Dr. Anna Zhao

In the mist, the year 2023 slipped away, and 2024 stepped up quietly, trudging through the snow.

How many people worked every day last year, I wonder, including Saturdays, Sundays, and all holidays?

Dr. Daniel was one of them. Every day in 2023, he worked in a clinic, either in Whispering Willow or in another one. Most of the time, he worked from 9 am to 9 pm; except for half an hour lunch break; the rest of the time he was helping his patients.

Anyone else would likely have collapsed from exhaustion. But not him, in fact, he rarely frowned, as if the word tired does not exist in his dictionary.  Never does he go to the gym, or do any sort of exercise. A strict vegetarian he is, neither does he take any vitamins or supplements. However, he never seems to worry about lacking sufficient protein or anything about his nutrition. When people ask him how he maintains his health, he simply smiles: I maintain my health by working.

I have watched him many times. Indeed, when he was massaging, he would always stand with perfect posture, eyes half closed, every movement slow and rhythmic. One would say his movement looks like he is practicing Tai Chi or dancing, shifting his weight effortlessly from one side to the other as he performs various movements that flow smoothly from one to the next.

When the sun is rising in the morning, we often stand in front of the large glass window of our clinic and salute the sunrise, visualizing the healing light from the cosmos pouring to every corner of our clinic and ourselves.

"When I massage, I always imagine that the light of the Bodhisattva is being transmitted to my patient through my hands," Dr. Daniel said.

“This is what is so amazing about you,” I smiled.

Our last patient on Christmas Eve was F, a man with a weary face.  With him was his 16-year-old son S. S had probably just finished his music class, as he had a violin on his back. “I wish my son would also get some treatment, but...” F said in a dull tone.

But the money is not enough, we could imagine what was unfinished in his sentence.

While Dr. Daniel was giving F a massage, the boy was fiddling with his cell phone. Realizing he may be bored, I said: S, why don't you play a tune or two for us?

The boy's eyes widened. With my encouragement, he opened his violin cover. After a while, the melodious sound of the instrument resonated in the clinic. For a 16-year-old, he was pretty good at it. Moved, my eyes became moist. I could almost see that both Dr. Daniel and S were listening attentively during the treatment. It was already dark outside, everyone was celebrating Christmas, and in our small clinic, a cheerful melody was gently flowing in the soft light.

After the boy finished playing, I watched him put his stuff away, I suggested again: “S, when you were playing your violin, I could see that your neck was a little stiff and your shoulders seemed sore, why don't you give me a chance to treat you?”

The boy's eyes widened again, so he complied and allowed me to massage his shoulders and neck.

After his father finished being treated, he was ready to pay, still in his grouchy tone: “How much did it cost? My massage plus my son's?”

I laughed: "Please just pay for your own treatment. As for your son, his music has paid more than his share."

The father's eyes instantly lit up. A smile grew on the boy's young face.

“This is what is so amazing about you,” Dr. Daniel smiled.

Finally, we had half of a day off today. Dr. Daniel protested: “Everyone travels during holidays, so I also want to travel!”

“Where would you like to go?” asked I.

“I’d like to travel to Burnaby,” smiled he.

We ended up taking the Skytrain to Burnaby in the freezing cold weather. When we arrived at our destination, Dr. Daniel darted to his favorite library where he searched frantically for the books he had longed to read. In front of the glass window I sat, quietly flipping through my notes. This scene reminded me of when I was a graduate student at UBC, slouching in a corner of the library, toiling through the books, and jotting down notes for my presentations. In a blink, more than 20 years had vanished; how time is like a river, flowing away stealthily!

On the way back, I asked Dr. Daniel about his travel experience. "Of course, it was awesome," he replied, "Why are people so crazy about running from one far away place to another? I believe that real travel is to take a ramble in one’s soul and have a rest in it."

His reply reminded me of a little poem I wrote a while ago:

Travel
Passport, ticket, luggage
Cairo, Paris, Beijing, Mexico
travel, travel
all around the world

people are on the road -
carried by aircraft, ships and trains

from one place to another.

Soul squats on a barren hillside

chewing on a straw
with a wry smile, watching him leave -
he who is closest to me
has never paid a visit.