With only five months to live in Thailand, I feel the urge
to travel and explore every crevice possible. This curiosity for adventure is
cured every weekend when I get a chance to get outside of my city, on a bus,
and off to somewhere new.
I really enjoyed the calm and peace from a past trip to Nong
Khai, a town along the Mekong River overlooking Laos. So when I had the
opportunity for another solo weekend away, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the Thai-Laos
riverside again. I had been advised from my Thai friend that Chiang Khan had a
similar landscape and a nice change in architecture, with its main city center
lined with beautiful dark wooden houses.
A ride I expected to take just over three hours, turned into
five and a half. And I could have been annoyed. But the moment the feeling of
annoyance entered my system, I looked out the window and my draw dropped.
Limestone cliffs.
And the thing is, we can get pissed and let it soak our skin. We can.
But we can just as easily notice the negative feeling, sit with it for a
moment. And let it go. Because there are too many amazing feelings around to
piss ourselves with the few negative ones.
I could tell you about trusting the process on my journey.
About getting off a pickup truck in the middle-of-nowhere and letting my
intuition lead me to the only reference point I knew- the river. I could tell
you about my guesthouse that upgraded me to a bigger room gratis, just because.
About a bike ride during a downpour that had Thais laughing at me, and me
laughing at myself. I could tell you how Chiang Khan has the quietest, most
peaceful night market I’ve visited in Thailand yet. I could tell you many
things about this place. But I really just want to tell you one thing. About
this one part of the day as the sun was setting on the lookout edge.
I was facilitating my daily headstand pose, as I like to
invert in each new place I visit so I can get perspective from the upside down.
And shortly thereafter two Vietnamese girls offered to help me take a photo.
While the blood rushed back to my head, I had a great conversation with these
girls as the sky turned orange in the setting sun. They were here on school
break vacation, and insisted they’d be my ultimate tour guide in Ho Chi Minh
whenever I come visit.
I felt so content with my life. Breathing in the beauty of
the river and the sunset against the water. And as they left, I snapped photos
of a group of school children while they laughed and chased each other. I was
on my way back to the guesthouse, as I locked eyes with a monk.
And I’m never sure if I’m allowed to look them in the eyes.
I know for certain I’m not allowed to touch them, as a female that is. But I
couldn’t help but stay eye locked, even though I often dodge away awkwardly
looking down or around, or anywhere besides eye to eye. This monk was with a
couple, and I shortly started talking with the woman. Surprisingly, her and her
husband lived in Northern Virginia, about a 20-minute drive from where I grew
up. She knew my high school by name. I went to kindergarten around the corner
from her house. Our connection was full of all familiar landmarks and
locations.
She got to talking about how her husband, a professor at
George Washington University, brought a group to study under the monk for a
week. And that’s when the monk joined the conversation. He was full of spirit
and constantly asked her to translate for him. Very interested in the work I
was doing in Thailand, teaching English for his country, he smiled and
maintained eye contact. I showed a lot of interest in their yoga and meditation
practice. And as the monk told me more about his life, I was awe-inspired by
the monthly walking meditation he and his following complete from one village
to the main city. A distance that takes a full day. A distance they conquer
barefoot.
Our conversation was not bound by time, and there was no,
“pardon me, I have to get going.” We were all present there in our questions
and exchange of experiences. At one point, the woman asked me if I was in a
relationship. I was quick to respond that I’m currently working on a
relationship with myself. And the monk chuckled cheerfully. I’m certain if we
could touch, he would have reached out to my hand in exaltation. The monk
reassured the couple that I was a rare soul, as they translated to me. He told
me I emit an amazing light and energy. In that moment, I let myself be
vulnerable enough to shed a tear of contentment.
And as we parted ways, I didn’t hug the monk, but I did hug
the woman. I hugged her so tight and she told me to take the monk’s invitation
to his temple. She shared that it’s not often he reaches out like that. That
it’s not often a single woman gets invited to practice under this monk, who is
considered one of the most revered abbots in northeast Thailand.
I left the riverside that night feeling brilliant. There are
some days when I’m abroad that I begin to question what I’ve gotten myself
into. When I question what I’m really trying to accomplish. But that night, all
of the qualms I have about my life disappeared.
I don’t think you need a monk to reaffirm your soul. But there is
something so powerful about being lifted up by a spiritual being that is worshiped
for living his life in contemplation.
It was one of those moments in Thailand where I air high-fived the
universe for landing me on the most amazing journey possible.
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