Whatever comes to mind. Sometimes a story I read, sometimes something that came to me while holding my mala beads.
My coworker said stressed. My mom said fire. One word my language has that English can't hold — and a two-thousand-year-old way of reading the body as weather.
A blonde woman on TikTok was scraping her jaw with a small white stone. The comments were all "adding to cart." I stared at that stone for a long time — it's a gua sha board. My mom keeps one in her bedside drawer, buffalo horn. In my home it treats heatstroke. Across the ocean, it's a $35 beauty tool. Same board, two destinies.
The cicadas went quiet, and the calendar said Chushu, the solar term where heat ''comes to rest.'' An old tai chi master by the river once told me: heaven and earth stop first; whether you follow is your own business. A soup that takes an hour to cook might be how an ordinary person catches up with the season.
When the temperature dropped, I felt cold to my bones. My mom pulled out moxa sticks and ginger, and gave me my first ginger moxibustion. The moment the heat penetrated through the ginger slice into my body, I understood what "penetration" means.