From "Travels with Charley"

"Once a journey is designed, equipped, and put in process, a new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity... no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us."

-John Steinbeck

Highly recommended book-- about a road trip he took around the USA with his poodle, Charley. Written in 1962 I think. Hilarious and perceptive.

Ko Pha Ngan

It's hard to believe I've only been gone about eleven days. It seems like a lifetime. I guess that's the compression of time and life experience associated with travel. I'm settled in on the island of Ko Pha Ngan for the next 8-14 days. The weather is glorious. I can't stop smiling. I've got a nice room in a hotel- simple with fan and cool water (both of which I prefer anyway) and plans to do little or nothing. I will walk of course. I will not be meditating, or sitting. Perhaps sitting in a hammock. That is all.

New hotel room (still under $20/night) Note entire wardrobe except 3 tshirts and a skirt hanging in the closet. This is as close to monkhood as I get.
My hotel-- little what do you call those things- that prayer thing with offerings- they are everywhere... Shrines!?

I just had to take a picture of this gas station.
The beach where the full moon party is in about a week's time.

Buddhist retreats... not for me!

"Divining chance means leaving yourself open to both good and bad experiences... Trust chance and steer it in a way that you're always learning from it." -Rolf Potts, Vagabonding

By chance I wandered into a ten-day Buddhist meditation retreat. On day five, I decided to leave. I don't regret my time there. I discovered that I wasn't cut out to live in silence or sit for hours at a time. As I left, I was happy to be laden down with my compact heavy backpack as I walked to the motorway to catch a bus to Suratthani, a small town on the east coast of Thailand, one of the major gateways to the Thai islands.

I'll tell you a little of my experience in the retreat...

On November 30th, I checked in and settled into my room, which consisted of a mosquito net hanging over a cement slab with a board, straw mat and blanket to lay upon for comfort. This was ok for sleeping for a while, though at some point in the night, I'd wake up and feel like I could not even roll over, but somehow would manage to roll on my side and re-enter sleepland, only to wake up later with a bruised hip. This I could manage after a few days.

It was the hours of endless sitting and lectures in broken English. In a building overlooking a pond and forest (think palm trees) with about 80 other people on pillows, we sat for most of the day and the night. I kept seesawing between, "I'm going to kill myself" and "This is ok, I'm gonna make it."

At the end of the first day, our final meditation session was from 8:30-9:00, at which time I was fighting to stay awake. I'd slipped into dreams seven times during that last session (I was counting). I woke up. Where was everyone? I was sitting in a dark, empty hall, unknowning what time it was since they'd instructed us to remove our watches upon arrival. The bells would tell us when to go to the next activity. I panicked, knowing that the dorm gate was locked at 9:15 and wondered just how long I'd been sleeping sitting up. Hurrying back to the women's dorm, (everything was segregated, including dining, meditating, etc) I arrived and saw that the gate was padlocked. I pressed on it and then tapped on the dorm nun's window. She let me in and scolded, "The door is locked at 9:15!" I said, "I'm sorry, I fell asleep in the last session. I'm sorry." My vow of silence was broken.

It was 9:27. I had three minutes until they cut the power and then I'd be in complete darkness without my head torch. After rushing to the bathroom, I settled into bed for a sleep and a night of listening to two cats in heat and snoring. (That should have been a sign.)

I can't say that anything as exciting as that happened afterward, only that I came to the conclusion that I better not become a nun, join the army or get sent to jail anytime soon. Each day I would rise to meditate, eat breakfast, take nap, meditate, eat lunch, take nap, meditate, have tea, go to hot springs, meditate, sleep. Then repeat. I could never catch up on my sleep. I've never been so exhausted from doing nothing in my entire life!

I'd planned to stay another night, but last night, I was having trouble sleeping again and kept dreaming that I would die if I fell asleep. I think it was just congestion. Whatever it was, it seemed to signal that I should leave. I talked to the head person (I think he was a monk, though he was not wearing the saffron robes, so I am not certain). When he asked why, I said, "I feel like I am going crazy. I was not prepared for the intensity of this retreat." I was still a good experience.

Thailand pics

I finally got some photos to upload.

Good news on the Bangkok airport.


Dragonfruit

Aggressive Monkey scratching ass

Second car sleeper- it was luxurious, yes that's me...

Buddhist retreat

Cement bed

Ben and Steph

Our hotel restaurant in Phetchburi

Phetchburi

Phetchburi

Ben and Steph

Phetchburi

Phetchburi

Phetchburi

My simple room in Phetchburi

Bangkok

Tuk Tuk in Bangkok

Boast of Quietness

Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious that meteors.
The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.
Sure of my life and my death, I observe the ambitious and would like to understand them.
Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.
Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.
They speak of humanity.
My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.
They speak of homeland.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword, the willow groves's visible prayer as evening falls.
Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow, I pass throught the loftily covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrrow.
My name is someone and anyone.
I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he dowsn't expect to arrive.

-Jorge Luis Borges

(printed inside The Inheritance of Loss)