After introducing myself to a handful of fellow teachers, I
was truthfully apprehensive about this whole orientation thing. I’d come from a
place where I’d connected with people on the same wavelength as me. And then
here I was in a swank hotel, feeling like I was in the university again,
talking with girls worrying about how much weight they would gain abroad,
bitching about the heat, and being super ditsy. The superficiality was
suffocating. I couldn’t help but immediately text my best friend, Ellie, and
tell her how out of place I felt. Her response, “you’ll find the good spirits
in there.”
We had an intensive schedule of teaching classes, Thai
language introduction, excursions, and socializing. I quickly understood how to
instruct with a more basic approach and reduce TTT (teacher talking time) so
the students absorbed the themes rather than become overwhelmed with the
language. I picked up a handful of key Thai words like hello, thank you, not
spicy, and beautiful. We visited the Grand Palace, ate lunch by the river, traveled
to the mountains, rode elephants, went to an EDM concert, and danced on Koh
Saun street in the pouring rain.
And as I was departing on the last day one of the orientation
staff, Fern, asked me about my favorite part of this week. I was quick to respond:
meeting Kara and Zola.
Yes, the opening ceremony, where the Thai staff welcomed us
into their country, was magical. We each greeted the Thais on our knees as they
tied a string on our wrist symbolizing good luck. That was a special
connection.
Yes, the Thai dance performance, where beautiful Thai girls
took the stage in costume, was impressive. We ate dinner as Thai girls
decorated in gold headpieces moved their body ever so slightly to the beat and
contorted their fingers in all sorts of bendy directions. That was a sight to
be seen.
Yes, the bus drive from BKK to Kanchanaburi, where green
mountains jutted out in the distance, was breathtaking. We rode for hours
listening to music as we gazed out the window in wonder of the beauty beyond
central Bangkok. That was a stunning view.
Yes, the floating restaurant on the Kwae River, where the
sky and clouds married in a scene of pink delight, was picturesque. We ate
delicious Thai food and danced to disco music all night, busting out old-school
dance moves like the worm. That was a baller night.
Yes, the elephant park, where we saddled up on these grand
creatures through the forest and into the river, was fairylike. We moved with
this creature and touched our feet to their ears as we held on for dear life.
That was a childhood dream come true.
But the greatest moment, the most meaningful part of this
orientation was when I found my GGs, my gypsy girls, my soul sisters. That’s
when I felt like everything was aligned. And Ellie was right; I did find the
good spirits there. Zola is this full-of-life Canadian, with beautiful dreadlocks,
and a very artsy nature. Kara is this feisty traveler, with an eccentric mixed
look, and a very captivating energy. We all just clicked perfectly like the
three best friends anyone could have. It was easy. We laughed our asses off
poking fun at each other, dealing with the endless hangovers, sharing concerns
of managing a classroom, dancing on the stage and constantly asking “can you
take our picture”. You could set us out from the crowd of 87 as the three girls
with matching flowers in their hair. As the girls rocking a backpack as their
only luggage. I even had someone come up to me and ask if I came to Thailand
with them, if we were roommates . . . nope, the universe just brought us
together. Aint that special?
As shooting stars, a
blindness, as a lamp. As a magic trick, as dewdrops, or a bubble. As a dream, a
lightning flash, or cloud. So should we view all that is conditioned. (Diamond
Sutra 32)
We like to see
shooting stars and magic tricks, but we must enjoy them while they are
happening. After all, isn’t its brevity what makes a shooting star so special?
We don’t expect it to endure and we shouldn’t expect the pleasure of company to
endure. When we’re missing people, we’re missing the moments we shared
together, moments which by their very nature must pass away. Only the passing
of the old moments allows new moments to occur. We need to return to the
present to experience them. Buddha did this and thus fully lived his life.
Time for us to do the same.
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