Incense in the Rain

So spring is here all three (Druidic, Julian, and Chinese) new years have come and are upon us. Maybe because to this, I find myself thinking back on the last year; the highs and lows, what I’ve learned, and what I’ve been reminded of. This only begs the question, what were those things? The time that stands out the most when I ask myself those questions, is my trip to Thailand.

Like some ill-formed character in a Hesse novel, I took a “Journey to the East” with only some half formed idea of what I might or expect to find.  After close to six months removed, I find myself virtually homesick for a place I spent less than a month in. Part of the answer for why I feel that way is easy; the heat, humidity, the open air markets, all take me back to a time of my youth and young adulthood and reminds me of how much I detest the sensory assault of the modern western life from the fluorescent glare of the shopping malls to the antiseptic stench of the modern “supermarkets.”

But my time there wasn’t all smiles and I’m in some ways, still processing my trip. Like many of my generation, I think my idea of a Buddhist Monk was somewhat formed watching reruns of the TV series “Kung Fu”.   I think subconsciously, I expected all the monks to all be like “Master Po;” serene, knowledgeable in the ways of mysticism, unfettered by the modern world and its trappings. When I arrived in Thailand, that image was shattered into a million pieces.   I remember being disconcerted whenever I would walk by a monk and see iPod ear buds with the cords leading down into the twining of his robes, see a rotund monk stepping from an SUV while talking on his cell phone, etc.  To make matters worse, the rampant commercialism of the Wat’s up to and including, scrolling neon signs across the temple walls knocked my preconceptions for a loop. Now consciously, I knew that the image of my childhood expectations would not be the reality, but I couldn’t help but be saddened by the selling of a culture, including it’s religion, in pursuit of commercial profit.  I was almost driven to violence watching a girl kneeling in prayer in front of a statue of the Buddha, while a German tourist stepped around her with annoyance, to try to get the “perfect shot” with his camera. Then I remembered the many photos I had taken as well and tried to remember if I had shown such disrespect as well. I hope I didn’t.  

But before you get the wrong idea, I did thoroughly enjoy my time in Thailand and think back to recall the highlights and pick out the important experiences. Was it the food? Was it the out of the way Wats not on the tourist map where one could almost feel the hundreds of years of prayer and meditation? Was it the courtesy inherent in everyday life? Was it teaching Qigong to a monk in the shadow of a Chetti, just a few steps away from a relic of the Buddha?   While all of these things were wonderful, there are three things that stand our in my mind and I will take with me forever.

While walking (getting lost actually) in the warren streets of Bangkok’s Chinatown, I looked over and saw a Buddhist Nun sitting quietly between two stalls holding her alms bowl in her lap. When I passed her, I dropped a few coins into her bowl and, when she looked up at me, what I saw on her face shocked me almost to tears. Upon her face was a smile, but it was the eyes that went straight to my soul with what I saw; peace, joy, tranquility, my childhood idealized version of a Buddhist mystic. I thought at the time; that’s it! I want that! How did you get it and where can I find it?!? While all of these things went through my mind, however, I just stood there struck dumb until I retreated, afraid if I spoke I would break the spell.

The next thing I took away with me was, while sitting in a coffee shop in Bangkok, I looked over and saw a boy of about 8 or 9 on the sidewalk playing a flute. Whenever the door to the shop opened, I could hear his flutesong even over the noise of Bangkok traffic and the sky train; something I shouldn’t have been able to do. Hauntingly ethereal, the music seemed to permeate everything around me and I found myself thinking about what life has in store for this little beggar-boy. When I left the coffee shop, I dropped some money into his bowl as well. Was it enough? Not a chance by a long shot, but enough to buy a meal. After seeing my “donation” to his performance, he stopped playing for only an instant to acknowledge me with a nod of his head that betrayed the years that he had already lived in so short a time, and went back to his flute like the little businessman he was.

Also while there, I spent some time at the Elephant Nature Park in Chiang Mai. I can’t say enough good things about this sanctuary. A heard of over 30 elephants, all rescued from lives of abuse, given the opportunity to live out their lives nature intended, while taking no money or support from the government. Many of these noble creatures have suffered greatly at the hand of mankind from landmine injuries due to working illegal logging operations, to intentional blinding with slingshot and knife by their mahout for refusing to work after the loss of her baby.   On the first day there, several of the volunteers where trying to save a sick member of the heard who had arrived only a few months prior. Mae Sai Roong had been rescued from an illegal logging operation where she had been forced to work under terrible conditions. To make matters worse for her, her mahout had spiked her system with Yaa-Baa (meth) to keep her working straight for days and weeks at a time without rest.  Now, her system was shutting down.  She lost her battle for life two days later.

On my final day at ENP, I walked from my hut to the designated smoking area and saw what last nights monsoon had done; it wasn’t hard to see that the debris floating in the river was the remains of a village upstream. The next few hours where spent on “body watch”; looking for human remains, ready to call out to those with nets downstream to attempt to catch the victims of the flood. I still don’t know if all the bodies were recovered.   

After the body watch detail was done, everyone went to another area of the preserve for the funeral service for Mae Sai Roong. Just next to Lek, the founders’ house, a grave had been dug with a backhoe and Mae Sai Roong was laid on her side in the grave. All of us stood around the grave in the rain holding flowers and incense listening to the chanting of a Buddhist Abbot and the local Shaman, who had welcomed us upon our arrival to the park, as strings (the same that we wore around our wrists) where attached from Mae Sai Roong to the spirit house to facilitate her entry for her rest. The chanting to let her spirit know that she had a safe place to rest, that her struggle was over, that she was free and finally had a place that was safe.  After the chants, one by one, we approached the grave and placed our flowers and incense at the side of the grave, wai’ed, and returned to the line to allow the next person to pay their respects. After placing my offering, I looked up at the spirit house and was reminded of another a long time ago, tucked into a garden, sitting next to a tea pavilion.   

Many years ago, I did a favor for a master of Cha-do (the way of tea) and, by way of thanks, he invited me over to his home one day. When I arrived, I was escorted back into a lovely and totally hidden Japanese garden which contained a spirit house and a small tea pavilion where he performed the tea service for me. During the second, less formal phase of the ceremony, it fell to me as the guest to initiate polite conversation.  I chose to ask him about the Kakemono (scroll) on the wall. He responded by giving me the translation for the calligraphy which meant “Ichi-go, Ichi-e”; One opportunity, One encounter (this was, ironically, last years theme for the dojo that I train at). Put into more western terms, you only get one chance, one meeting because every time, every moment, is unique, special, and different.  Embrace every moment and opportunity for once it’s gone, it will never return.  Maybe that’s what I took away from my journey to Thailand; the remembrance that all of us, regardless of race, religion, nationality, or anything else, are essentially the same. We all suffer through life’s’ trials, try to carve out a niche for ourselves, and take joy and comfort wherever and whenever we can find it and show kindness where we can.. Maybe that’s all there is and all it should be. All I know is, whenever I close my eyes at night, I still hear that flutesong and smell incense in the rain.