10 Days of Silence - The Arrival
I took off my shoes as I entered the paddock, read the rules, participated in an interview with a monk who put a check by my named to indicate his approval. Spoke with Jenny from Toronto about who I thought I was and her interest in "go games" over crushed bananas for desert and a vegetarian lunch. Checked my belongings into the safe so they’d be safe or maybe so I’d be safe because the breaking of an ego in reality does more damage than the theft of a camera. I walked to the dorm, bars over windows, locks on the front door, a bucket to place spiders and scorpions in. “I hope I see some”, I thought. My room came with a luggage lock.
Pause.
Insertion of the key, working with the lock, thinking of what was on the other side of the door before I had entered. The door swung open surprisingly without the sound of creaking. Concrete bed, wood block pillow, bars on window, a light bulb, but it came with all the air I needed to concentrate on breathing. No showers, just buckets to scoop polluted well water out of the basin with so that we could disturb the breeding of mosquitoes in a process we humans refer to as bathing. My head was nodding back and fourth in rejoice as if I was a Mo Vaughn bobble head doll (excuse vague Boston reference). The dirtiness of what my life was about to become made me more excited as I thought about how I was standing, for real, in that spot on Earth underneath the Thailand sun. However, I hadn’t realized during the tour of my new home that the dirtiness was really cleanliness and that the challenge would come after the silence. Little did I know that going back to the home I thought was home would be more like performing a swan dive head first into dried mud.
Introduction with some neighbors all of which were... present, except for a French guy giving someone shit for washing his clothing on a stool. I was judging. Orientation, the boundary tour, these are the rules, “Can I climb trees I asked?” The question left the man confused, but he answered yes to the best of his knowledge. Then, a three hundred sixty degree terrain sweep ensued; all I had to do was choose which ones. I had no idea that climbing these trees required battling the ants for position on the branches.
Silence that night was exciting. I found something to do which became part of the process that got me through the time. Picture a perfectly circle island in the middle of a perfectly square pond in proportion to the anatomy of a visually pleasing breast with a well centered areola (I love how I chose to make this a breast reference). On the front side there was a concrete bridge approximately four feet wide. Gravitation to this spot, wow-ee-waah! This was the place for me to turn off my eyes. Using a sarong tied over my eyes, I began to balance and walk the edges of this concrete bridge from shoreline to island in blindness, feeling with my feet and ears for guidance. I dipped lower and walked gracefully as the contours of the bridge and I began to know each other. When I neared the island, I would reach with my left hand outward in search for the tree branch which had leaves like a hand. Then, I'd swing my right hand behind my back as if I were on the edge of life itself and my one last request was to perform a dance like a ballerina. I would stop and feel the leaves without seeing. Surprisingly, the visual without my eyes became more appealing. The sensation of touch painted a beautiful image in my mind of what I was feeling.
The island had five trees like the pattern of five made on dice, with the middle tree positioned slightly upward and to the right. I reached my arms back pointing toward the rear trees, then to the front two off set, to the middle, and finally up at the moon as if this place were actually a map leading me to the sky. I had discovered this instinctually and it felt like I was exactly where I suppose to be, aligned. Butterflies were in my stomach as I returned to the dorm which had been full while I was on the island wanting to perform my blind balancing act. The eye contact with others was playful yet inspiring to see the authenticity in everyone’s eyes, as if we as a group were up for this challenge of silence.
Pause.
Insertion of the key, working with the lock, thinking of what was on the other side of the door before I had entered. The door swung open surprisingly without the sound of creaking. Concrete bed, wood block pillow, bars on window, a light bulb, but it came with all the air I needed to concentrate on breathing. No showers, just buckets to scoop polluted well water out of the basin with so that we could disturb the breeding of mosquitoes in a process we humans refer to as bathing. My head was nodding back and fourth in rejoice as if I was a Mo Vaughn bobble head doll (excuse vague Boston reference). The dirtiness of what my life was about to become made me more excited as I thought about how I was standing, for real, in that spot on Earth underneath the Thailand sun. However, I hadn’t realized during the tour of my new home that the dirtiness was really cleanliness and that the challenge would come after the silence. Little did I know that going back to the home I thought was home would be more like performing a swan dive head first into dried mud.
Introduction with some neighbors all of which were... present, except for a French guy giving someone shit for washing his clothing on a stool. I was judging. Orientation, the boundary tour, these are the rules, “Can I climb trees I asked?” The question left the man confused, but he answered yes to the best of his knowledge. Then, a three hundred sixty degree terrain sweep ensued; all I had to do was choose which ones. I had no idea that climbing these trees required battling the ants for position on the branches.
Silence that night was exciting. I found something to do which became part of the process that got me through the time. Picture a perfectly circle island in the middle of a perfectly square pond in proportion to the anatomy of a visually pleasing breast with a well centered areola (I love how I chose to make this a breast reference). On the front side there was a concrete bridge approximately four feet wide. Gravitation to this spot, wow-ee-waah! This was the place for me to turn off my eyes. Using a sarong tied over my eyes, I began to balance and walk the edges of this concrete bridge from shoreline to island in blindness, feeling with my feet and ears for guidance. I dipped lower and walked gracefully as the contours of the bridge and I began to know each other. When I neared the island, I would reach with my left hand outward in search for the tree branch which had leaves like a hand. Then, I'd swing my right hand behind my back as if I were on the edge of life itself and my one last request was to perform a dance like a ballerina. I would stop and feel the leaves without seeing. Surprisingly, the visual without my eyes became more appealing. The sensation of touch painted a beautiful image in my mind of what I was feeling.
The island had five trees like the pattern of five made on dice, with the middle tree positioned slightly upward and to the right. I reached my arms back pointing toward the rear trees, then to the front two off set, to the middle, and finally up at the moon as if this place were actually a map leading me to the sky. I had discovered this instinctually and it felt like I was exactly where I suppose to be, aligned. Butterflies were in my stomach as I returned to the dorm which had been full while I was on the island wanting to perform my blind balancing act. The eye contact with others was playful yet inspiring to see the authenticity in everyone’s eyes, as if we as a group were up for this challenge of silence.
