Suan Mokk
Suan Mokk is a place of meditation and mindfulness, where the vividness of experience is captured by consciously stringing a lifetime of moments together, ranging from extreme peace to near death dreams, into one...
An evolution beginning with fear that reality is a construct blinding the perception of the particles of truth, then having no fear.
Counting back the years the process of learning words and facts was the action that transformed life into a path that was was seemingly choice-less.
Realizing now I made myself voice-less.
Suan Mokk is a place of understanding choices.
The realizations come in waves moving further and further away from the shore where the water gets deeper.
Monks modulate metaphors and pour the unfamiliar music of mountains into our minds,
There is one and then there isn’t,
That song poured into our ears without our an understanding of how the medicine they’re feeding us works or even what kind it is,
The choice is red pill, blue pill,
Who’d have thought the words to a Donovan Leech song would have disguised the crowning point of an urge, urging us to recognize that the illusion is choice until reality is an experience not conceptualized through our voice, ears, nose, finger tips, or eyes.
UNLEARN.
The quirks, idiosyncrasies, tired faces, frustrated postures, the silence of chivasana, rocking back and forth like a boat on rough seas during meditation, the rawness of bliss, breaking the silence, the rules, the gritty sounds of dirt roads crunching underneath dusty feet, bathing by bucket with well water,
Buhhhhhhhhh-nahhhhhhhhhhh-mahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-sayyyyyyyyyy-yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!
CHANTING!
Trees named Bodi, silent poetry, sneaking out to get juice boxes and post lunch time/sunset nourishment often referred to as....DINNER.
Talking shit about Pam-tip, eye contacts, insights, the unknown vibes, spaced out eyes, jam sessions on sand and leaves, sharing inside information (whatever that means), meditations, the feeling of wanting to... but... resisting temptation, sharing space when feeling vulnerable about a volatile reality inspired by breathing concentration, taking a place in absorption, the touches, caresses, sneaking in sensual moments underneath the nose of the chief of police who is yourself, getting drunk on the type of defilement on the top shelf...
Hangover,
Quitting cold turkey,
Withdrawal,
A process which in actuality lasts seconds yet somehow leads to self discovery.
Suan Mokk, often referred to as the “Garden of liberation”, a place, where in silence one learns to disregard the sensation and all its violence.
I arrived at Suan Mokk in bright yellow knee high socks sporting black lines,
The 80’s kind,
Hiding underneath sweaty fisherman’s pants and black spandex with sun burnt lines lacerated around my biceps,
Scars from waging war with the sun.
On a broken down bike tied together with street junk of various faded colors,
I arrived...
Faded mentality from exhaustion,
Seeking confrontation with reality hinking....
“Fuck You” as I read the sign that’s says proceed with caution.
It would be a place to explore my aggression.
And, after ten days of silence and sleeping on a concrete bed with a wooden block pillow underneath my head,
Interrupting a cobra hunting without my eyes,
Realizing the nature of death, aging, and dying is the same as sensual kiss.
After 10 days of silence and a 10 hour romance with nature involving the absolute compression of stillness, The dissolution of self despite the highly concentrated levels of phil-ness…
I left changed.
Wearing bright yellow knee highs sporting black lines,
The 80’s kind,
Hiding underneath sweaty fisherman’s pants and black spandex on a broken down bike,
I left with an actual understanding of how love for one's self is the key to the game.
