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2021-09-06 16:19:35
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The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 6
6After Norbu leaves, I lock up the office and climb the stairs to the roof for a smoke. I canāt see squat from the top of my building, just graffiti on red brick in every direction with the skyscrapers in the gray drizzly distance, but I still like it up here better than down on the street when I need some nicotine to help me think. The car and truck exhaust is a little thinner up here, and maybe itās my imagination but I think it makes the tobacco taste better.I stand on the gravely tar paperānot too close to the edge because I have a thing about heightsāand by the time Iām on my second smoke, Iāve almost decided to drop the case. Itās getting way too hot and Iām only one day into it. I donāt need to piss off Joe and his buddies in blue any more than I already have. But something is niggling at me. Iām trying to figure out how to get at least one payment for legwork out of the monks before I bail, but when I think about telling Jigme Rinpoche that I canāt help him, thereās this re
Last Updated : 2021-09-06The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 7
7I hit abar near Columbus Park on my way home from the Dancing Crane. Not my usual, not my favorite. Iām one of three white guys in the place and the other two are already sloppy drunk. One of these clownsāshort and sinewy with a tattoo of a four leaf clover poking out the sleeve of his white tee and a drooping eyelid that looks more like a birth defect than a sign of drunkennessāweaves into me on his way to the bathroom and nearly knocks me off my stool, sloshing whiskey and ice out of my glass before it can touch my lips for the first sip.I have time to register the clover and reflect that itās not his lucky day before a familiar dark glee overtakes me. Itās like my mind just slipped from daylight into the Lincoln Tunnel, the echo of spinning tires off the tiles pulling me down through the pulsing lights into the dark place where nothing exists but this assholeās face bouncing off the floor. Iām on top of him, pummeling him, shattering his cheekbone, ripping my knuckles raw
Last Updated : 2021-09-06The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 8
8I grab the coffeeIāve been craving and head to my office on foot. Chinatown is quiet today, still hung over from its New Year revels. I climb the ill-lit stairs with my ears pricked but find no ninja whores lurking in ambush today. Which doesnāt mean Iām lacking in female visitors; Gemma Ellison, the cute grad student from the teahouse, is waiting outside my door. My first thought is that she looks spooked, sweaty around the edges.āMs. Ellison.āāGemma, please.āāIād say Iām pleased to see you, Gemma, but I get the feeling youāre not here to ask me out for another cup of tea.āāMay I come in?āāOf course.ā I unlock the office door and wave her through. She takes in the seedy but tidy environs, her eyes lingering on the card table serving as a desk.āYouāve caught me in the middle of some renovations,ā I say.āNo computer?ā she asks.āNot in the budget. Maybe someday. Are you here for my services? If you need some kind of cyber spy, Iām afraid Iām not your man.āāOh,
Last Updated : 2021-09-06The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 9
9The goon takesthe subway uptown. On the train I get a better look at his face and clothes. Heās young but restrained, not playing up the gangster thing with jewelry, or the Chinese thing with the kind of tacky Kung Fu graphics I see the wannabes flaunting. This one looks like heās on his way to lieutenant, so heās probably on an assignment Tien wonāt risk on some low rank gopher. His posture shifts as we roll into Union Square, spine straightening and shoulders rolling back. Iām not surprised this is our stop. Heās headed to the Diamond Path Dharma Center.On the street, he buys a couple of hot dogs with sauerkraut and a can of Coke from a cart, then settles on a concrete planter where he can eat his lunch with a view of the dharma center from an angle that also takes in most of the path to a side entrance. I hang back and pace the street, blending in with foot traffic, watching him watch the doors and hoping Norbu wonāt pop out of one of them, spot me, and bring me to the go
Last Updated : 2021-09-06The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 10
10Detectives Navarro and Chen march me down the block to the park. My stomach is growling and Iād prefer it if we could do this over lunch, but Iām too broke and it sure doesnāt look like theyāre buying. Thereās some ham, mustard, and bread I can pick the mold off back in the mini fridge in my office, but for now Iām gonna have to go hungry just like all the methadone heads wandering the park. Well, at least I donāt have to worry about hurling my lunch over the side of a building this time. Remembering that stunt Chen pulled on me, my palms get sweaty, and for a few heady seconds Iām overcome by the impulse to lay my hands on his shoulders and push him into traffic. The urge is bright and hot, but it passes, and now weāre moving away from traffic, cutting left onto Union Square West.It doesnāt take long for the bumpy brick road to make my feet ache in these shoes, but glancing up at the rooftops, I revel in the sensation of connection to the ground. Navarro at my elbow, I fol
Last Updated : 2021-09-06The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 11
11In the basement of my apartment building, I remove the buttons and zippers from my coat and pants before burning the clothes with my gloves in the furnace. It takes longer than I expected to reduce it all to ash, and all the while I worry Iām making a grave mistake. You can go to the cops about a body you found right up until you start destroying evidence. But having started down this path, I drop the buttons and zippers down a storm grate on my way to the bodega down the street for a bottle of ginger ale, a bag of ice, and a microwave dinner. The temperature plunged with the sun, and Iām shivering in my old Army jacket when I get back to the lobby with the grocery bag swinging from the raw bare hand that isnāt stuffed in a pocket. Iām gonna need new gloves.The phone rings while Iām eating and working on my second drink. Iām expecting it to be Joe Navarro calling from the lobby, but itās not. Itās Gemma.āMiles? I hope you donāt mind me calling you at home. I got your number fro
Last Updated : 2021-09-06The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 12
12I wake up alone, morning light slanting through blinds, whispered words in Tibetan tumbling through my addled brain, and for a good half a minute I have no idea where I am. Iāve only seen this room by candlelight and itās alien at first until my eyes find the deformed candle stumps, the ash trail of incense on a silver burner supporting the charred end of an exhausted stick, and the hilt of the phurbajutting out of its triangular base like a demonic birthday candle in a wedge of cake.The smell of coffee finds me, and I get out of bed, feeling grungy and sore, find my boxers on the floor and put them on before following the scent. I almost forego my tank undershirt, thinking Iāll hop in the shower soon, anyway, but itās chilly now that Iām out from under the sheets, so I tug it on as I step into the living room.Gemma is in the kitchenette, washing a pan by the window. Another cold, gray day looms beyond her, backlighting her frizzy hair as she turns and smiles at me.I cl
Last Updated : 2021-09-06The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 13
13When I arrive at the dharma center on West 14th, thereās a plainclothes cop watching the entrance. Caucasian, buzz cut, I can just tell. And I donāt think heās there waiting for a monk. Itās me they want to talk to and I havenāt been home or to the office. In my old jacket and lacking the trademark hat, Iām almost in disguise but thereās also nothing to hide my face so I duck into a corner store and buy a Yankees cap. There goes my lunch money. But with the bill pulled down, Iām able to blend in with the crowd on the street and slip up the garden path on the side of the building without getting collared.The side entrance puts me in the lobby with its high ceiling and art gallery atmosphere. I can see the cop on the street through the glass of the main entrance, the etched eternal knot superimposed over his restless form. At the front desk, where I expect to find Norbu manning the phone, I find a skinny young monk in glassesāone I havenāt seen before. I give him my name and tell h
Last Updated : 2021-09-06
Latest chapter
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 18
18Iām less than a year into a life sentence at Great Meadow Correctional in Comstock, NY. Always thought Iād like to retire upstate someday, but for all I see of the outside, I may as well be in China. Paul Tien is back on the street, but Joe says the Fifth Precinct is keeping tabs on him. In October, the Dalai Lamaās visit to the Big Apple went off without a hitch, and things have settled down again for the monks of the Diamond Path Dharma Center. They have more time now for general meditation classes, hospital chaplaincy, and prison ministry visits.Far as I know, Iām the only Buddhist currently in residence. I took the refuge vows from Jigme Rinpoche the first time he visited me. Not monastic vows, not yet, just your garden variety vows to seek refuge in the three jewels: the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. But I already have a pretty monkish haircut, so who knows? I may get there. Iāve got time.For a while there, I thought my guru might be joining me full time. The police
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 17
17I was bornin the Year of the Ox.Thatās my first thought when I wake up in the hospital again. The hospital where I was born. Mount Sinai. My next thought is that the confrontation with Paul Tien in the alley was a bad dream, that Iām still here from getting beaten by his goons; I never left.No. The room might look the same, but itās different. Different wounds, too. And the first thought nags at me again before I can distract myself from it, like itās been waiting by the bedside for me to wake up so it can poke my throbbing shoulder and whisper in my ear, demanding my attention.Your birthday is in January. Chinese New Year changes dates with the lunar cycle but it always comes later than the 14th. Often as late as February. Youāre not a tiger, youāre an ox.Someone clears his throat. I turn my head to find Joe Navarro and Benny Chen staring at me.āWhy?ā Chen asks. Navarro doesnāt speak, but his eyes tell me everything. A soldierās eyes, empty of anger and denial, of
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 16
16They wonāt releaseme until the following day. The thought of the deductible makes my head hurt even more than the beating I took, but they want to monitor me for swelling of the brain. Itās the first time Iāve ever been afraid of my brain getting too big. Mostly I sleep and wish I could borrow another Walkman, but no opportunity presents for that. Maybe my luck has dried up, or Iāve pissed it all out on one of my unsteady trips to the bathroom.Eventually I put the cassette out of mind. Not like I can translate whatās on it, anyway. All Iāve got is a name and a vague memory of adjacent words I donāt understand.But after stewing over it for a while, I realize thatās not entirely true. I can count in Chinese, and I might have recognized a number. In fact, Iām pretty sure Paul Tien said the number er shi sanin the same sentence as Rinpocheās name. Twenty-three.The date when Jigme Rinpoche is giving a public talk at the Union Square Theater. Saturday night.Itās somet
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 15
15As I regainconsciousness, my head wrapped tight in a bandage, my nose taped up and throbbing through the haze of pain medication dripping into my vein, I realize itās my lucky day.Not because Iām still alive.Not because it could be worse.Itās because of the kid. Heās the first thing I see as I take in the room. I canāt see my roommate, donāt know what particular brand of suffering he or she is afflicted with because of the drawn curtain between our beds. I hear the murmur of conversation drifting through that curtain and see a middle-aged woman in slacks and a sweater standing at the edge of the curtain with her hand on a little girlās shoulder, and the shadow of what might be a man beside the bed. But none of them catch my eye like the acne stricken adolescent boy hanging out by the door. He has headphones around his neck and a Walkman in his hand.Thankfully, it doesnāt hurt to turn my head. I look around my side of the room and spot my stained army jacket hanging on
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 14
14Iām still reeling when a young monk hands me an envelope stuffed with cash to cover my expenses and ushers me out the side door. I check for the undercover cop at the corner. When I donāt see him, I stuff the envelope into my jacket pocket and join the flow of pedestrians. Everything still looks a little brighter, more vibrant than usual, and one of the first things I see on the street is Jigme Rinpocheās face again, smiling at me from a poster taped to an electrical box. Apparently heās giving a public talk on mindfulness and compassion at the Union Square Theater on February 23rd. My step falters as I read the flyer, and for a moment I consider turning tail and marching back into the dharma center to ask him why heās appearing in public when there might be assassins prowling around. But thatās Norbuās alleged concern, not his.Itās only been a couple of days but enough has happened that I bet there might be something worth hearing on the cassette recorder I tucked behind the cei
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 13
13When I arrive at the dharma center on West 14th, thereās a plainclothes cop watching the entrance. Caucasian, buzz cut, I can just tell. And I donāt think heās there waiting for a monk. Itās me they want to talk to and I havenāt been home or to the office. In my old jacket and lacking the trademark hat, Iām almost in disguise but thereās also nothing to hide my face so I duck into a corner store and buy a Yankees cap. There goes my lunch money. But with the bill pulled down, Iām able to blend in with the crowd on the street and slip up the garden path on the side of the building without getting collared.The side entrance puts me in the lobby with its high ceiling and art gallery atmosphere. I can see the cop on the street through the glass of the main entrance, the etched eternal knot superimposed over his restless form. At the front desk, where I expect to find Norbu manning the phone, I find a skinny young monk in glassesāone I havenāt seen before. I give him my name and tell h
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 12
12I wake up alone, morning light slanting through blinds, whispered words in Tibetan tumbling through my addled brain, and for a good half a minute I have no idea where I am. Iāve only seen this room by candlelight and itās alien at first until my eyes find the deformed candle stumps, the ash trail of incense on a silver burner supporting the charred end of an exhausted stick, and the hilt of the phurbajutting out of its triangular base like a demonic birthday candle in a wedge of cake.The smell of coffee finds me, and I get out of bed, feeling grungy and sore, find my boxers on the floor and put them on before following the scent. I almost forego my tank undershirt, thinking Iāll hop in the shower soon, anyway, but itās chilly now that Iām out from under the sheets, so I tug it on as I step into the living room.Gemma is in the kitchenette, washing a pan by the window. Another cold, gray day looms beyond her, backlighting her frizzy hair as she turns and smiles at me.I cl
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 11
11In the basement of my apartment building, I remove the buttons and zippers from my coat and pants before burning the clothes with my gloves in the furnace. It takes longer than I expected to reduce it all to ash, and all the while I worry Iām making a grave mistake. You can go to the cops about a body you found right up until you start destroying evidence. But having started down this path, I drop the buttons and zippers down a storm grate on my way to the bodega down the street for a bottle of ginger ale, a bag of ice, and a microwave dinner. The temperature plunged with the sun, and Iām shivering in my old Army jacket when I get back to the lobby with the grocery bag swinging from the raw bare hand that isnāt stuffed in a pocket. Iām gonna need new gloves.The phone rings while Iām eating and working on my second drink. Iām expecting it to be Joe Navarro calling from the lobby, but itās not. Itās Gemma.āMiles? I hope you donāt mind me calling you at home. I got your number fro
The Wind in my HeartĀ Ā Ā 10
10Detectives Navarro and Chen march me down the block to the park. My stomach is growling and Iād prefer it if we could do this over lunch, but Iām too broke and it sure doesnāt look like theyāre buying. Thereās some ham, mustard, and bread I can pick the mold off back in the mini fridge in my office, but for now Iām gonna have to go hungry just like all the methadone heads wandering the park. Well, at least I donāt have to worry about hurling my lunch over the side of a building this time. Remembering that stunt Chen pulled on me, my palms get sweaty, and for a few heady seconds Iām overcome by the impulse to lay my hands on his shoulders and push him into traffic. The urge is bright and hot, but it passes, and now weāre moving away from traffic, cutting left onto Union Square West.It doesnāt take long for the bumpy brick road to make my feet ache in these shoes, but glancing up at the rooftops, I revel in the sensation of connection to the ground. Navarro at my elbow, I fol
