Next Life in the Afternoon

A big myth about Thailand is that the food is all spicy. In fact, most dishes are served rather bland and spices are provided at the table so each diner can adjust the flavor according to his or her tastes. Sometimes, though, social pressure wins out and consuming too much spice is unavoidable. Here is an example of just such and instance, when I had lunch with my friends in Nakhon Ratchasima:

Phramaha Nattapong sat by himself and was brought a number of plates of food, as is the custom for feeding monks. Nut, Gak and I sat together and ate rice noodle soup. Nut took a spoonful of dried chili peppers and added it to his soup, smiling. Next Gak did the same thing. They smiled at each other and looked at me.

I am a big fan of spicy food and am not afraid to try something new that might be a bit on the hot side. At the same time, I am not the type of person to simply eat something for the sake of burning my palate. This was more than a matter of culinary preference, though. Everything hung in the balance – national pride, masculinity, ego – as I looked at the smiling faces before me.

I reached for the hot peppers and took an equal amount as the others did, adding it to my soup. They laughed with excitement, knowing the challenge was just beginning. We each took a mouthful of soup and swallowed it, the two of them watching me intently, waiting for this strange farang to completely lose his shit.

The soup burned me and I could no longer distinguish between temperature and spice. Each exacerbated the other. The overall heat was overpowering but I managed to swallow, thinking of the cooking process happening to my trachea and stomach from the steaming liquid as it blanched my gullet. I wanted to drink something cold but did not want to show myself as weak. I fought back the tears and recalled my karate practice from years earlier, which was at times much more painful than this, especially on the rare occasions that I missed a block and took a fist in the face. There were no tears then. Why start with all that now?

My comrades were duly impressed and slapped my back in an accepting way as we got down to the business of finishing the soup. I ended up having two bowls just to dilute the fire in my belly and try to wash the spice out of my mouth, innards, pores and eyeballs. The spice had become systemic in my body, possibly even my soul, and I was not sure if it felt good or not.

Technorati Tags: Thailand, spices, tastes, social pressure, Nakhon Ratchasima, chili peppers, spicy food, hot peppers, farang

Four years ago today – this very minute – I was on a plane to Thailand. Well, maybe to Chicago or Tokyo, to be more specific, but my journey was underway. I had been sure to get aisle seats on all legs of the trip. It’s bad enough being on a plane for 27 hours. I can’t imagine being stuck in a window or center seat with my giant Germanic frame.

February 1, 2004 was the day of the Super Bowl and as the in-cabin monitors showed our position over the long trail of Aleutian islands, the captain came on and announced that he had picked up a station from Honolulu that was broadcasting the game, if anyone was interested. I don’t really care about football but thought it was pretty amazing that radio signals first of all reached as high up as we were and second that they could be picked up from so far away.

At that same moment, my wife was in Boston watching the game on a big-screen TV with our friend Jody. I only learned this after the fact, of course, but found the connection to be a special one, learning that through the miracles of football, advertising and radio technology, we could be connected just a little bit, though thousands of miles apart.

I don’t know where I am going with this or where this journey I am on will take me, as I look backward four years, but here’s to enjoying the ride and loving the new adventure every day brings!

Technorati Tags: Thailand, journey, Super Bowl, Aleutian, Boston, football, adventure

“I have to go back to Thailand,” I remember Phramaha Nattapong saying once. “It like I am empty. My heart empty. I need to see my family and my country.”

“Like you have to recharge your batteries,” I said.

“Yes, like recharge battery. I think you understand.”

This is just what I have needed to do myself after a long time working in a day job and teaching at night, with very little time to work on this book. What I have rediscovered in the meantime is a writer I have enjoyed on and off for a year or so. In her blog Nothing But Bonfires Holly Burns writes in the most incredible way – amusing, humorous, deep, philosophical and is able to turn a story from a yarn a person might tell into a string that artfully leads back to itself the best self-referential way.

Burns is not just a great writer but a refreshing one. Reading her work helps me recharge a bit. I can’t put my finger on why or what it is but it feels nourishing, like a salve I didn’t know I needed. Maybe it’s just perspective – seeing things through another set of eyes, both familiar and foreign. I can feel myself regaining the hold I had on my writing and am excited to continue.

But the best part about Holly, and likely what makes her just a bit alluring is that she is a language geek like me and even has a favorite punctuation mark. Not many of us admit that. For me, it’s hard to say. I love em dashes; I am not as big a fan of semicolons (or of parentheses), as Holly is. I suppose it takes all types. Not everyone will agree on something as controversial as punctuation.

Thanks, Holly, for providing whatever it is I get from your blog that seems so refreshing and inspires me to continue forward.

If you have not seen Holly’s blog, please go check it out. Her careful dedication to the craft of writing is clear and I am sure you will find her style as interesting and intelligent, yet down-to-earth as I have.

Technorati Tags: Thailand, writer, Nothing But Bonfires, Holly Burns, writing, punctuation

I just used Lulu.com to create a calendar from some photos I did in Thailand when I was there in 2003 with my lovely wife. Go check it out!

This was a lot of fun to do, as it had me looking at the pictures quite seriously, remembering places and people and in general putting myself back into a country that is half a world away. What an incredibly beautiful country it is in many ways!

Here are some samples of the pictures:

Technorati Tags: calendar, photos, Thailand

I just started writing again yesterday and hit a very prolific stride rather early on, churning out a good amount of new material. Mostly at this point I am editing the book, taking out chunks, recrafting sentences and ideas and deciding what adds to the sory and what does not.

That’s the real question I have been asking myself as I slog through the manuscript. Does this part add to the story somehow, does it take away from the story or is it like a neutral element, doing neither of those things? If something does not add to the story it gets cut. The decision role is the hard part of editing, especially with a narrative story, such as this.

If I were to hire an editor, which is not a simple thing to do on a photographer or teacher’s salary, the editor would have to read the whole manuscript before being able to judge each individual element. Basically, you have to know the beginning and the narrative path and see what end it comes to before being able to judge what should stay and what should get cut.

Eventually I will have to hire an editor, I think, or get one through whatever publishing house buys the book. The emotional involvement I have with this project is pretty serious and I am sure I am not always making the best decisions when choosing what to keep. I will have to examine this within myself and find a good editor in the next few months.

The timeline has been pushed back a bit, and right now I am looking at being done hopefully by the start of spring. What a great way to start a time of symbolic cleansing and rebirth. I would love to see this become a reality.

Up to now my time has been taken up by my job during the day, teaching at night and trying to find the occasional bit of extra work. Now that things have slowed down, I plan not to take many more new students and spend that time instead on writing.

The new word count: Just shy of 53,000.

Technorati Tags: writing, story, narrative, photographer, teacher, manuscript, editor

I have had to put off writing as much as I had planned to because of some circumstances that have eaten away at my free time. Namely, I am referring to my day job. I recently started working full time so I can have things like money and insurance and means to support my habit of living under a roof and eating every day.

What this means is that the completion of my book will likely not be at the end of the year. I have not had time to work on it much in the last several weeks, as I work during the day and at night and on weekends, and when I do have time to write I am mostly too tired to do much more than sit around.

My old pal and teacher Tim McLaurin used to talk about his days of writing his first novel. He was working construction, an early-riser’s gig, and had to be at work by 7 a.m. He would start writing at 4 a.m. and get done what he could before he had to leave home. Every day was like this until he finished the manuscript and got the book published.

I think I could take a page from his book, so to speak, in more than just this example. Tim’s life was intense in many ways. He was a dedicated writer and teacher and did not do much halfway. He was straightforward when he spoke and honest as well, an honorable man who nonetheless had faults, many of which he wrote about in an effort to show his children and the rest of the world that the past we have is not something to hide from or be ashamed about. The past has brought us to where we are and where we are now is a gift. We may not like where we are but the gift inside the present moment is opportunity.

Tim was like a non-celibate monk who sometimes liked to drink to excess. He understood that the past was gone and that the future had not yet arisen, and that all we had was the present moment.

As I think about this, I am reminded that I have the opportunity to be more stringent with my writing schedule, to mark times to do the important work I have in front of me and not defer my dreams due to a simple lack of time.

Langston Hughes Wrote:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Technorati Tags: working, book, Tim McLaurin, writing, monk, Langston Hughes

These are two of the people I traveled with in Thailand. Nut, on the left, was a student studying economics but has since dropped out of school, I am told by way of Phramaha Nattapong. Gak, the older fellow on the right, lived in Khon Kaen and was apparently the Thai version of independently wealthy. He had no vocation and lived in an apartment by himself with few worries of money.

He tried to buy my camera, insisting that I mail it to him when I got home. I never did. I did not want to and never promised it to him, despite his insistence. I suppose I could send it now, since I have a camera that is much nicer and have not used that particular one in some time.

Gak had spent six years as a monk during his younger years and seemed to know all the chants by heart, even though probably 20 years had passed. He meditated often, as did Nut, but Gak’s age and experience seemed to translate into a different type of meditation with a different intensity.

Nut’s youth seemed to keep him in the mindset of always striving for the still point in his mind, pushing forward until he finally achieved it. Gak, on the other hand, was more calm, peacefully allowing the concentration to develop. He seemed to watch his mind’s actions, while Nut pushed his mind in different ways.

Traveling and meditating with these two was definitely an eye-opener, allowing me to see where I was a little better and also where I was going. I recognized both styles and appreciated seeing them in other people as a confirmation of what was familiar on both ends.

Technorati Tags: travel, Thailand, Phramaha Nattapong, meditation, still point

This is a video I made when Phramaha Nattapong came to visit me in Worcester, MA a couple years ago. He is the Buddhist monk I went to Thailand with in 2004, the one who encouraged me to come and stay in the temples and ordain as a monk. In this video, he is giving a Dhamma talk, which is something like a sermon, if I were to relate it to something we are familiar with here in the States.

Worcester Magazine had done a story on me and my Worcester Diaries project. You can catch someone taking picture of my robed friend. She was a student photographer with the magazine sent to get some shots to accompany the story. As luck would have it, I had a monastic visitor when she came and she got a whole lot more than she had bargained for, I think. Great times!

Technorati Tags: video, Phramaha Nattapong, Buddhist, monk, Thailand, Dhamma, sermon, Worcester Magazine, Worcester Diaries

I have been living in two worlds for three and a half years. When I left to go to Thailand, I knew to expect a little culture shock. It was a three-week trip and I had been there before, so I more or less knew what to expect. It was a little stressful to adapt while I was there, but not too bad.What I did not count on was the transition of returning to the States. I had spent three weeks taking bucket showers, scrounging and hording food and sleeping on the floor. Suddenly, when I came home, I had things like hot water anytime I wanted. I heard English spoken almost all the time and had a structured job to go to.

It was familiar but it wasn’t so comfortable. I wanted something else – something different – but I didn’t know what. I never really felt accepted in Thailand, mostly because I was very obviously a foreigner, and while most people there were friendly and welcoming, nobody wants to invest too much emotionally into someone they know will soon leave their life.

When I got home, I knew I did not really fit there either. The thing about travel is that it changes you. Your experiences and insights alter your very being, almost like a chemical reaction. You can’t undo that change. Maybe you can learn a new or different way of being so you can better adapt to your circumstance, but that experience will always be with you.

For a long time I lived like this, remembering Ajahn Kamtan’s words on meditation. “Breathe in, think, ‘Bud.’ Breathe out, think, ‘dho.’ In-out, you think, ‘Bud-dho.’ You do that. You meditate on Buddho.”

Meditation helped. It calmed my mind, put out the fires of my passions and let me see the world as part of a cycle, both on the macro and micro scale. Just as the world is impermanent and in a grand cycle, I am the same way, as are my thoughts and emotions. Everything arises, exists and passes away. This feeling of confusion and culture shock will also pass. This, too, is impermanent.

The confusion has faded over the years but still sometimes rears its head, especially since I am writing about my experiences and reliving memories on a daily basis. One moment I am in a remote jungle monastery, surrounded by the sounds of animals – monkeys, insects, birds – and the next moment I am jarred out of it by a cell phone’s ring in the coffee shop where I do much of my writing.

Sometimes it is hard to make the distinction between here and there, especially as I dive deeper into the stories, fleshing out dialogues and storylines with memories of travel and excitement. At times it seems so far away, so long ago, but I need only make an attempt to recall a precious interaction, a meal, a shared laugh, a gift. Those things are always in my heart and mind and will not change, even if the moments in which they occurred have long passed.

To recall the present moment – that most important of all moments – I need only recite what Ajahn Kamtan told me. Buddho. It brings me to that still point in my mind, the warm place in my heart, the deepness of the connection I share with all people regardless of culture. It brings to the place I call home.

Technorati Tags: Thailand, culture shock, travel, Ajahn Kamtan, Buddho, Meditation, writing, present moment

One of the ascetic practices some monks undertake is that of observing death in its many forms, from the ever-frightening threat of death to the ghastly specter of what remains after death. This is a practice designed to help them let go of attachments to the physical world and come to know in a very deep way that we are all subject to the same certain eventuality of pushing up daisies. Or tamarind trees, as the case may be.

I never intended to have this type of practice during the trip I made to Thailand three years ago but for most people it’s not something they plan for. When the threat of death comes, that horrid vision and realization of our own mortality, what do we do? Running toward danger is not a very smart action but running away from what we perceive to be dangerous may lead us to other dangers.

Here is a taste of what I did while in Old Sukhothai and finding myself among dangers I had not anticipated:

At other ruin sites the paths and lawns were clear, but at this one the paths I trod had me wading through ankle-deep leaves. The clearing where grass could conceivably grow was so covered that nary a blade showed itself if any were there at all.

I had recently stopped at a temple whose very large fire ant population kept me from staying long, so I was delighted to be among tall-growing hardwoods without obvious fruit that might support a healthy colony of little stinging creatures. Yelping and dancing a jig to get the fire ants off me was not a reflection of my best self.

The idea of encountering the dreaded king cobra or other death-giving creature had not crossed my mind when I noticed the leaves around my feet rustle with such vigor that my neck hairs stood erect in the still air.

I looked and could see the leaves moving among the fallen pillars and overgrown weeds at the edge of the clearing. Something was crawling in the underbrush. I didn’t know what type of creature it was and did not care to find out. My first thought was to leave at once, bidding adieu to my ground-dwelling companions. At some point, though, you have to figure that if you are halfway through the woods, you still have halfway to travel. That is, trying to extricate myself hastily would not prove any more effective if the same distance would be traversed regardless of speed. Any snakes that might be in the leaves and ready to strike would be there whether I ran or strolled.

Then comes the matter of strategy in walking. Do I walk noisily and hope to scare the snakes into slithering away ahead of my feet, or will that simply anger the gutsier of them into staying and attacking? Would a stroll, feet padding along silent and catlike, be more effective in trying not to scare the snakes, or would that ensure their complacency instead of their flight? Such are the thoughts of a man who would prefer to avoid certain death but knows that the number of fangs will likely remain unseen and unknown, and unknown even if seen.

So how did I walk? Slowly and noisily. Did I get bitten? No. By not running from danger and instead having a walk in the woods, I was able to enjoy what could have easily been my last minutes.

In the end, it is not avoiding death that matters. The quality of a life is not measured in time but in substance. If I were to get bitten and die there, I think I could have called my life and experiences quite full. Or someone could have, on my behalf. All the same, I am glad for the opportunity for future richness.

Technorati Tags: ascetic, monks, death, Thailand, mortality, danger, Sukhothai, ruin, snake