Gypsy

It's thrilling, knowing that you don't have to settle. I've come to realize that I have some commitment issues. Commitment to a job and commitment to a place to live in has been something that I've grappled with over the past 48 hours. The kids that I teach are wonderful, no noubt. However, Krabi is a bit too sleepy of a town for me, judging from my experience for the past week. Yes, it's close to gorgeous tourist attractions like Ko Phi Phi and Ao Nang, but it's not easy to get there without a moto or a car--and with school obligations that my Thai teachers have on weekends, it will be even more challenging to go somewhere exotic and have fun. Sawng taews (public transit) are not very plentiful or conveniently located here. Plus, I don't have any friends here. Dilemma.

Restlessness in my system makes it very hard to be present, except when I'm teaching. These little lights are a godsend. However, when the teaching stops, I'm hit with the reality that I will again be packing up my things and headed north to Chiang Mai. My attention turns to the future and remains fixed on it. What is in store for me there you ask? Plenty! Temples, yoga studios to teach at and study at, the potential of finally learning Thai massage, food that won't make me sick, a bountiful expat community for me to make friends, and an interesting, colorful culture. I didn't come here to just live here, I came here to thrive. Chiang Mai is the one place in Thailand that I have always wanted to go to--not just because of the amazing things I have heard about it, but because I feel drawn to it on a very deep level. Something is calling me to it, and what that thing is isn't very clear. And I'm totally ok with that. I have enough trust to know that this kind of instinct is not whimsical--it is a desire coming from a place of Truth. 8 weeks and counting until I embark on my new journey.

When it rains, it pours

The past four days has been a whirlwind of culture and adjustment. To my school community, I am a decoration. I am a prize. I am a farang (white person). Therefore, all eyes are on me. I literally command the attention of the hallways and the classroom, which is bizarre and exhilarating at the same time. I can't help but smile and laugh when little kids marvel at the differences between our skin color and how I say things versus how they say things. They are so fantastic and adorable; their brains are sponges and they mimic me like little tiny parrots. Most importantly, they are hungry and eager to learn English and most carry a lot of confidence with their speaking abilities--especially the higher levels of kindergarten.

Lunch is over, and the kids are hustling around in linear fashion with their tin cups and neon colored toothbrushes in hand.

I am sitting here at a tiny table with a flower painted in the center, listening to the tune of the monsoon on the aluminum roof. My students are still attempting to tear my attention away from my phone by relentlessly tapping on the classroom window directly behind me--they're pretty big on the high-fives right now!

Rain makes me more reflective than I usually am. I become a bit more internal, especially given the fact that when I'm done with three hours of teaching at 11am, I have free time until 4pm. Yes, that's right--getting paid to sit at this flower table, since it's in the wifi zone. Boredom? Nonsense! From yesterday's experience, I learned that I needed to bring a book or have something else to keep my attention for the remaining hours of the school day. How many years have I said that I wanted a job where I got paid to have fun and do nothing? 

Again, I realize little by little that I'm getting everything that I've ever desired and everything I've ever asked for. It doesn't always show up in the way that I think it will--but it does always happen. That's how it works. Amen!

Krabi, baby

Krabi. Majestic, mountainous landscape filled with the most funny, kind and selfless people you will ever meet. Upon landing in the Krabi airport from Koh Samui, one of my fellow teachers picked me up. We had only been conversing for just a few days over email, but she didn't cease to greet me with hugs and warmth--the kind of warmth you receive with intimate friends who you've known for years. This woman, bless her, has taken me under her wing--taking me everywhere I needed to go, helping me find an apartment close to school, bargaining for my bed sheets and blankets in the market. Whatever you need, I take care for you, she says. I was introduced to all of the Thai teachers in my school, and the head honcho director of studies as well. All of them were extremely welcoming and adopted the same attitude as the first Thai teacher I met--Sawadee ka(p), kind eyes and sunny dispositions. I don't think I've ever met a group of strangers who were this attentive to my well-being and happiness. In the words of my director, We want you to be happy here forever. We want you to teach here loooooonnnggg tiiiime. Ha! Seriously though, the moment the plane touched down, I was all smiles. I knew this all fell into place for a reason. I'm going to be taken care of. I have a salaried position to maintain a comfortable life in Thailand, and actually get to enjoy myself as well when I have breaks. I have a place to live that isn't too expensive. I'll be able to save money and start paying off some debt. What more could I ask for?

Island Livin'

Sitting at a bar hut

On Lamai Beach,

Sea breeze gently flowing 

Through my golden locks.

Temperature is just right.

Mother's body ranges in color

From sandy green to crystalline torquoise.

Heineken in hand, toes

Covered in sand.

Music fades in and out of the speakers,

But the subdued tune of 

Mother's waves never fails

To soothe the layers of 

My existence.

My concerns are far from

Me at this moment,

As I've chosen to lay them aside

And purely enjoy 

The path that is laid before 

My feet.

Mother, take me there,

Bestowing grace upon 

Me all the way.

Land of Extremes

Thailand is indeed the land of extremes. The place where you can describe every sensory experience as the best/worst thing that has ever happened to you in your life. For instance, last night I stayed in the grungiest "resort" I've ever been to. Right now, I'm in the most silent of airports--it is truly dead here. Kinda nice, actually, given the chaos that comes with constantly travelling from place to place. Yesterday marked the first official day of monsoon season. On one of the many song taew rides en route back to Pattaya yesterday afternoon, the canals flooded, and the streets became flooded as a consequence. Water penetrated my backpack and found the soft, papery flesh of my book of Hafiz poetry--the book is worn in the truest sense now. It bears the mark of experience. 

We are all products of our experiences. We hold onto the sensory memories dearly, clearly remembering how something physically felt, smelt, tasted, sounded and appeared through our tainted daily scope. In a land of extremes, I ride the waves, feeling everything. It's up and down almost every day. On the up and up when I'm experiencing beautiful scenery and feeling totally at home in nature. On the way down when I feel attached to the ideas of comfort, home, family, Portland, past relationships, romance. Getting caught up in the extremes is a risky undertaking that we all participate in willingly. It's fun. It makes us feel alive. It makes us feel something, that's for sure. The key to surviving all of it is to have the opportunity to discern between your sensory experience and your actual essence--who you really are: unbridled, joyful, limitless, infinite, pure Spirit. Sounds like a lofty idea, but when given the alternative of the constant,exhausting rollercoaster ride that is the human experience, it's such a comfort to know that I am so much more than my body, my mind, and my sensory experience in this world. This is what keeps me going. This is what keeps me alive. This. Is. It.

The Long Road

Naturally, I was uber sad to leave the beloved Koh Chang. The road back to Pattaya took significantly longer than expected--about three hours longer than I initially thought. After a few late nights on the island, the road back wore me down a bit. I haven't eaten a solid meal since breakfast, so I'm on the hangry (hungry+angry/irritable) side. The whole ride back, the Thai folks who were simply trying to help me out kept saying that I should stay the night in Pattaya and travel to the airport in the morning. Apparently, my hotel was too far away for them to get to and they had no idea where it was exactly. But, I insisted that I needed to get there since I prepaid the money on my card and wanted to be close to the airport tomorrow. At ten thirty and too much money later, I landed on the scene: rows of brightly colored cottages laid against sparse outdoor lighting and darkness filling the spaces between. My things are placed inside of the room and I get to finally take a look at the joint. Seedy, in a word: found a roach on the wall, mosquitos were already taking residence inside, a foul stench emerged from a leaky, unclean sink in the bathroom, piss was in the toilet. Pretty revolting considering that I just came from a four night stay in a nicer-end bungalow with only ants scurrying around the floor to worry about. Perhaps I'm being a little high maintenance. Perhaps I'm having "first world problems", or another round of culture shock. I met the family who owns the place--two Thai women who are lovely for sure, but it's obvious that even their office quarters are a place where they sleep. This is far from the "resort" picture the hotel booking site claimed to have. 

I am road weary. I am hungry. Two of the worst conditions for me to be in if I'm trying to be positive and compassionate. Indeed, I'm making the most of this. It's only one night, and then I'll be off to Koh Samui tomorrow for some more classy fun, nurtured by the fresh ocean breeze.

Heaven on Earth

I've died and gone to Koh Chang! It really is heaven on earth here--so perfect and beautiful in every way. I have fallen in love with the magic of the place, completely enthralled by the beauty that covers every inch of this island. I have met new people from the States and many other parts of the world. We all have one big thing in common, which is that we're breaking away from the norms of wherever we're from. We've all uprooted ourselves from the comforts of familiar places and people, and have traded all of that familiarity in for daily exhilaration. A life full of possibility rather than the same old routine. All of us catch ourselves in the moments where we get really present and remind each other of our purpose being in Thailand. We are creating a new web of connection and comfort with our fast friends. Inhibitions and personal bubbles don't exist when you travel, for you seek commonality with those around you. And while these sweet, sweet connections are being made, the tendency to get internal and contemplative is a reality as well. A time set aside for being solitary for at least a few hours a day is a must, so that one's batteries can be recharged. Travelling is a draining thing. Even when you have a few days to spend on a pristine, relatively untouched island playing at the beach--there is still room for exhaustion. 

I leave tomorrow to head back to Pattaya for a night, and then I'll be off to Koh Samui for some more island time with more dear people. This is the life!

Welcome to the Jungle

Koh Chang during low season...what a sweet deal. If you literally walk five minutes in any direction, you will land in either a lush green jungle housed by towering mountains or the vast, sweet blue sea whose waves lull you into a state where everything "important" falls by the wayside. I had forgotten what it feels like to be close to the ocean, to want to become one with the water. Strange that how much attention you pour into the waves is directly proportional to how strong the desire is to just jump in and merge with the tide--having your entire Being rocked by warm, yet firm nudges from the sea. I just got back from wave watching with friends in the dark. Most of the light we had on our path to the destination bungalow was coming from milky, silvery moonlight trying to emerge from cloud cover. The rest of our light that guided us faintly came from a friend's trusty flashlight in front of our single file line, as we trudged along a rocky path. Watched the tide moving in and out as we crossed a small, sketchy man-made bridge where river meets sea, water moving quickly underneath us. We finally reached the bungalow and plopped down in each of our wooden chairs, preparing for the trance-like state of relaxation that laid ahead.

I'm in love with everything about this island. The food is exceptional, particularly anything with coconut as a base flavor or  ingredient--from coconut curry to the actual coconut water and flesh itself. The scenery is just to die for, and my heart has been full all day as a consequence. My breath has been taken from me in the tiny moments where I'm enthralled by how massive and green a mountainous jungle is, or how expansive and peachy the sunset is laid against an indigo and blue horizon. Moments where I'm reminded that something larger, older and very sacred is at work here. It's just too beautiful and perfect. I'm right where I should be and feel no resistance. I'm not even worried about the ants in my room--it's all good. I'm all good. All good. Yes.

Meant to Be

Once again, I find myself in a position where I'm observing time and the process of transition. I'm packing all of my things again on Friday and heading south to the islands. A potential teaching job located in beautiful, low-key Krabi has magically fallen into my lap, with benefits and help with housing that is close to school. And all because of some of some mystery man from Portland who liked my resume. What are the odds that I would have a Portland connection all the way across the world? Amazing stuff. Meant to be, as it were.

Even though I know I'm not staying in Pattaya, the city has kinda grown on me these past two weeks. It's been a comfort to get to know parts of town and figure out the spots where I like to eat and what not. But, I can do that anywhere I stay long enough. Adaptability. Maturity. Growth. All three of these qualities join hands and hold me close in the center, reminding me to stay steady in the midst of obstacles of loneliness, heartache for the familiar, and fear of the unknown. In the words of the Lizard King, "Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free." Freedom. Moksha. I am meant to be free. Wise words, Jim babe.

When you don't need it...

You let it go, of course. It's 1:45am and I feel like I'm nowhere near sleep. Thinking too much and feeling too much. Naturally, I need to process everything that I'm feeling, taking it all in and then compartmentalizing it so I know how to separate my Self from the self that suffers from mind pollution. The yogic term for this is viveka, which means discrimination. It means knowing when to pause and actually look at an emotion, an action, or a situation from all angles. Perspective. Spaciousness.

We deal with attachment all the time--to everything that we can possibly be attached to. We know it well. Attachment gone out of whack turns into a kind of addiction to most anything: a feeling, a memory, a person, an object. This attachment, whether you know it or not, begins to run the show of your life. You know, the life you want to enjoy and find happiness in. This attachment is married to every fear and doubt that you have come into this world with and every fear and doubt that you have come to experience --samskaras: thoughts and impressions embedded in all of your layers of consciousness. 

What do you do when you know a samskara has been running your show for as long as you can remember? Just shows up in different costumes, but makes you feel that same ball and chain of every limiting feeling you could think of. You can be aware, and not know what to do. You can be aware and recognize that you have tools to fend off those limiting beliefs about who you are and where your life is going. Then comes the real task, the practice, the tapas--where you are in a constant state of observing yourself. So much that you can catch yourself on the precipice of Self-denial and Truth. Catch yourself in that moment and talk yourself down from the figurative ledge and say to yourself, Nah, I'm not gonna go down that road right now...I don't need this. That's literally the practice. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. It never stops. And the nature of the mind is to be in that constant state of flux. 

A change in orientation is needed. Maybe it's just breathing into the lower back ribs, the collarbones, the sides of the neck, softening the knots in the abdomen--wherever the body is responding with tension. There's a beautiful quote from The Bhagavad Gita that says, "What you are unwilling to feel remains as tension, becomes gnawing, grows into addiction. Restore the capacity to feel fully, to allow the experience without flinching, and the addiction, the gnawing, the tension dissolve." This is a conversation between teacher and student, who are really one in the same since all are born with truth and bliss at their very core. What it comes down to is when we're suffering, we have a choice. We can let it run our lives or we can actually work to remedy the situation piece by piece. Dismantling the walls built over our own hearts, revealing more and more brightness every day. And that brightness, my Friends, is what lights up the world.

Om shanti shanti shanti

Orchids in my Hair, i don't care :)

Indeed, it was one of the most carefree days that I've had in about a week. Naturally, I got up around 7:30am and strolled to Coffee and Beer guesthouse have a proper American style breakfast. Poached eggs with sweet chili sauce on top, buttered toast, tomatoes and coffee. It totally hit the spot after a physically, mentally and emotionally taxing week. My comrades and I hustled over to make the 10:00am ferry to our beloved Koh Larn, the island experience we'd been dreaming about ever since we got here on Sunday.
The ferry ride over was lovely--we made friends with some amiable Russian folks, who we see a lot of here in Pattaya. Not quite sure why that is, but that's another story.

We arrive at our magical destination about maybe twenty five minutes later. We hopped out of the subsequent long tail boat which took us almost to shore, splashing in the gently lapping waves as we walked toward the umbrellas. Jewel-toned, crystal blue water, white sand, white orchids in the coconut shake, purple cushions for the reclining chairs--it was pretty damn perfect. The kind of scene people think about when they think of "getting away from it all". Carefree. No schedule. No watch. No nothing. Fair skin tends to not do so well in sun soaked settings, so for the most part I opted to stay under the cool shade of my umbrella with my coconut shake, reading Eat, Pray, Love. However, I definitely had to take a couple of waist-deep dips in the water to further cool myself off.

The afternoon pushed on and eventually we dragged ourselves back home, totally beat by the heat. Definitely had to stop by our favorite Lebanese place to grab some melt-in-your-mouth-goodness Doner kebabs before making the song-tao ride back to the guesthouse. Later, we made our way back down to Walking Street in search of a nice place to sit down, get some grub and catch the beauty of the sunset. The seafood was overpriced and bland, but what we really ended up paying for was our view. Literally seated smack dab in the middle of the strip of pier restaurants--the perfect vantage point to witness one of the most perfect sunsets I've ever seen.

And now, I'm sitting in what will be my room for the next week, contemplating how unclear my next steps are. Where am I going to end up? Koh Samui? Koh Phangan? Krabi? Chiang Mai? No clue. I'm just taking things day by day here because that's all I can do. I can only operate from this moment in time. A lot of shit has gone down this week, and I finally realized that this is the point where I start to operate on a solo basis instead of the refuge I take in a group setting. I am on my own. Unsettling? Kind of, since I just started dealing with this thought last night. It's all stewing in my headspace--everything that I've seen and experienced, and everything that I have felt in the past three weeks. It has been one hell of a ride, and I think it's proving to be a lot more interesting in the coming weeks. My plan to deal with everything that comes up is to constantly remind myself that I'm on my path (however it shows up), I can't mess up, and that I'm perfectly guided, safe and loved through all of it. Thank Goodness!

Lunch across the street from the Baptist church

Flies dancing on rice scattered
Across the concrete floor of a restaurant
With no walls.
Skinny multicolored cats eat the rice scattered
Across the concrete floor of a restaurant
With no walls.
Ganesha presides over the scene.
Sitting on rickety wooden benches,
Hearing the skinny, multicolored cats
Scurry about underneath,
Playing with one another,
Without a care in the world.
Anticipating the arrival of the meal
That will satisfy the appetite for at least a few hours.
Fried rice with chicken is served
In modest bowls
On top of a sticky, fly-covered
Tweety Bird table cloth.
Dark leafy Asian kale, bright red tomatoes,
Light green cucumbers, nourishing egg, thin cut chicken
And sweet chili sauce are all in the mix.
The mix that will satisfy the appetite
For at least a few hours.
Chaan imm ka. Chai.

Stillness of Heart

I find myself now in the part of the day where I have downtime. Where nothing is going on at all. I make  my feeble attempts to entertain myself with Facebook, movies, music, and random facts. But always during these moments, even back in the States, I come back to Self-inquiry. Questions arise: Where am I at? How am I feeling about all of this? Is this my path? Do I travel or do I settle in and teach? Am I going to succeed?

All of these questions, of course, are ego-generated. Survival mode issues. This is where I make the separation between what notions drag me down and lift me up. Reminding myself that I am here in Thailand for a reason--to learn more about who I really am and do more of what makes me happy. Making the distinction between being in a rut and a routine. Seeing the bountiful, beautiful world with a fresh pair of eyes every day. Not judging anyone or anything. All of these things I know. All of these things are in my proverbial toolbox, and at my disposal always. Watching myself shift in and out of all of these waves of thought and emotion is indeed a miracle. To be aware of all that is in my realm of consciousness.
When it's all said and done though, it's definitely nice to have your sweet Thai auntie make you the most scrumptious, warm yellow curry you've ever had, with that comforting side of rice and a young coconut to wash it all down (let's be real--I finished the coconut water before I got my food!). Presence. It's gonna be okay. Truth. Let it be.

En route to Pattaya

Where the lotus flower grows,

Taxis are pink, not yellow.

Golden Buddhas are tucked 

Into the green mountains.

The roads are smoother,

And all drive on

The left side of the road.

A change in orientation.

More cars on the road,

A change in circumstance.

Where the lotus flower grows,
I find myself in a place
That feels a bit strange.
A change in flow.

Change of plans

Didn't end up going to Koh Rong today, which was actually okay. We hit up yesterday's stomping grounds a bit earlier and were greeted by sunny skies. Had conversations about life among the gentle tide. A couple hours in though, like clockwork, the rain came in. We all gathered our stuff together and huddled up in the beach shack for some grub. Chicken and rice with sweet chili sauce on top for me--uncomplicated and delicious. After one more hour of feeling sticky, I decided to turn in for a shower and some relaxing time inside, out of my wet bathing suit and the rain. It's so cool to just lay here right now and listen to these simple sounds of rumbling thunder and steady downpour of rain. This rain is just as nourishing as the sun. Love, love, love.

Sihanoukville--Life's a Beach

I'm absolutely in heaven here, living the life of a beach babe. I've never been in a warm ocean before--it literally felt like bath water. The beach itself wasn't very crowded at all--being that it's monsoon season. Totally my cup of tea. Bearing witness to the interplay of darkness and light in the vast expanse of the sky was absolutely gorgeous. Mmmmm. I felt completely at ease eating lunch in a beach shack with a coconut the size of my head in my hands once again. The strangest part is that this place doesn't exactly feel like uncharted territory. It's almost like I've been here before, maybe in another life or dimension. The soul of this place feels familiar to me.

Rest and relaxation. No watch, no schedule set in stone, no commitments--just living and experiencing 

everything on a whim. Ko Rong tomorrow--jewel toned waters, white sand...Heaven. Stay tuned!

Fluid

I literally cannot believe how quickly time is passing here in Cambodia. I was warned about that from the start, and I didn't doubt it when I heard it whatsoever. But still, I'm in awe of simple facts, such as: I'm going to be in Thailand this time next week. Crazy, right?! I suppose that's why people come here and before they know it, they're here for two years. Time is completely fluid here because life doesn't revolve around a job or money really. Life is about enjoyment here--the pace isn't too bad, even for a bustling capital city like Phnom Penh. Sure, there are tons of people around going about their business and lives, but no one is in a rush. No one has road rage. No one is angry or disgruntled, period. It's really nice for a change to be surrounded by people who embody that even-temperedness.

My comrades and I went to Central Market tonight--one of those open air markets where there's a whole gamut of knick-knacks and clothing. The food is located inside: fresh fruits (mangosteen, apples, lychee, etc.), fresh seafood, and other items as well. The smell walking through the joint varied from pungent and acrid to sweet. It was wild being that in tune with my sense of smell--something I didn't experience too much of in the States. Shortly after, we headed over to Sorya Mall, which was a ton of sensory overload and too much overpriced clothing. The gals and I ended up walking out with fifteen dollar watches that'll serve us well in our teaching endeavors. The night was capped off with the dopest paneer butter masala with butter naan from our favorite Indian restaurant near school. Free delivery? You better believe it! I love this city! I love my life!