It's official - I'm seriously out of my element.
read more ↓It's nearing 9am, and at 9:30 I'm meeting with the rest of my group to start our first official day of our trek. We're taking a one-hour long-boat ride to visit a sacred temple, and eventually we're taking a three-hour bus ride to Kanchanburi, where I will be sleeping on a raft under the stars.
So far, Thailand is equal parts beautiful and sad. The sad struck me this morning as I went out in search of breakfast. The streets were calm in comparison to last night, when they were bustling with backpackers from all over the world bargaining with the local merchants for everything from clothing to wooden carved dragons (an aside to Colleen - it's taking every ounce of my strength not to clean these people out in an effort to further zenify my home.) I put on my sunglasses and mused at how it was already hellishly humid, and something caught my eye: a little boy no more than six years old laying in the street, sleeping. A tuktuk was parked just behind him. I marveled both at how black his feet were and how peacefully he slept despite the mild traffic going on around him. I wake up if a light goes on. And while it made me sad, I was basing this on a comparison to my own life. Maybe this is just the way it is here, I thought as I walked further down the street and saw others sleeping on stoops in the sun.
The beautiful is all over, really, if you're looking for it. (Which I guess is a testament to how I've been living my life for the past year. I could focus on the negative, but what's the point? I got tired of being depressed all the time.) I happened upon a Buddhist temple. I didn't know that it was at first, because it's being reonvated. I felt intimidated. I didn't want to go inside. I marveled at the ornate gold doors that led into the grounds and watched as tons of Thai people took off their shoes and walked up the marble steps, but I couldn't see inside, really. I had no idea what was going on. I inched closer and saw a giant gold Buddha face, and immediately slipped off my shoes to go inside.
There were probably about 20 people there, all kneeling or sitting cross legged in prayer in front of two enormous golden Buddhas. I know it's cliche to say, but it took my breath away. I kneeled at the back of the room behind everyone else on a red carpet and closed my eyes, concentrating on the silence and finding my center. But after a while I really wanted to see what was going on. I watched as people bowed their heads to the floor in reverence, and took in the intricate design of the temple - the carved wood, the marble, the gold. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. After a while I felt like it was time to go, so I put some money in the donation box and walked back to my hotel.
As much as this intimidates me, this is what I need. The sad is here to remind me that on one hand I'm pretty damn lucky with what I've got, but on the other, there are more important things than the car I drive, the job I have, the stuff it can get me. Getting out of my element really forces me to take stock and understand what's important in life, and chiefly among them is my happiness. And I'm pretty damn happy these days. I think I finally cherish what I have.
But more than that, I'm realizing the little things I do that dull the lessons I've learned when I travel. I'm doing it less and less, but I'm trying to wean myself off of celebrity gossip, having the TV on as a subtle (or not so subtle, depending on what's on) way to avoid being alone, and generally reducing the noise in my life. Which isn't to say that my life is particularly noisy anymore, but the more peace I have, the mroe I enjoy it. I turned on the TV in my hotel room once when I got there, and decided my time would be better spend reading. I don't need to see The Ringer again. (Actually, I didn't need to see it the first time, either.) What I need right now is a connection to me. And I'm finding it.
Anyway. It's almost time to go. And although I'm admittedly freaked out about what these two weeks are going to bring me, I suspect the reason why I'm freaked out is because there's going to be a ton of emotional and personal growth involved. And that's always for a greater good.
(Also for a greater good? Green papaya salad, which I had for lunch. And dinner. I've yet to work up my guts - both literally and figuratively - to have street meat, though.)
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