Our weary legs and aching backs cry out as we plod along the never-ending lines of pavement, buildings, and people of Singapore. This ultra-modern city breathes a life all its own, it’s strikingly distinctive. We visited the maniacally rigid and antiseptic city of Singapore on a previous trip, and found the best sight in Singapore is simply wandering in the city itself. It's an interesting place to spend a few days because of the stark contrast with the rest of Asia; in fact, it’s the antithesis of an encumbered, asynchronous Asia. However, what Singapore sorely lacks in character, it clearly makes up for in efficiency. Everything about the city is a creation of its overtly austere rules and regulations, all promulgated in the name of efficacy. Although it’s a breeze to get around anywhere in the city and the entire landscape is immaculately clean, it has the feel of a world gone mad. Signs jump out at you everywhere sternly warning to mind your every action and the people walk virtually in unison, as robotic imitations of one another.

The people of the largest city-state in the world are a direct reflection, of this forbiddingly stern and unyielding environment. It's very simple. You comply with the demanding way of life or pay (in cash or with the rattan). The most interesting part of Singapore is that for all the racial diversity in the city, the people are all essentially the same. They are walking carbon copies of one another. This environment has created such clear uniformity, and it seems that, for the most part, Singaporeans like it that way. Singapore, more than any other place in the world, is a true reflection of the environment that's been created and molded by the people who live there.

We dropped our bags off at our cramped, dirty big-city hostel, had lunch in Chinatown and wandered casually through the ethnic districts of inner Singapore. In the late afternoon, we made for one of the places we didn't get to last time, the skyrail to Sentosa Island, which offers a fine view back across the channel of the city. We sat on a park bench, relaxed, and watched the sun set shedding its rays of golden light upon the sparkling skyscrapers of Singapore. Even in this wintry land of steel and concrete, these rays squelch this monstrous fire of our painful, insatiable display of the physical. It is a touch of the divine within this mechanical reality. For us personally, watching sunsets have become the hallmark of the trip—it’s our intimate time together. So, no matter where we are in the world, no matter how crazy or hectic our schedule, and most importantly, no matter how frayed our nerves are from being with the same person every minute of the day, we always have the fading ball of fire to "set" us straight...to revel in the arms of one another and to gently remind us of all that we have experienced and shared together. It’s our daily reminder to appreciate what we’ve done and where we’ve yet to go, and ironically it’s the "setting" of the sun that is our affirmation of life. And with this singular notion, I know that with a deeper appreciation of the world around you, comes a sense of "happiness."

And this day was no different.

After discovering, the hard way, that our mattress had "bed bugs" and sleeping the night away on the concrete floor, we gorged ourselves on a good-ole fashioned breakfast along the infamous shopping district on Orchard Road. It was a veritable feast, as eating rice dishes for lunch and dinner and an egg for breakfast everyday gets boring quickly. It's been one of the biggest adjustments coming from the U.S. where the food is incredibly diverse. After mailing home two large packages filled with an assortment of clothes and souvenirs, we boarded a bus for Johor Baru in Malaysia. We walked through a series of checkpoints where we found ourselves on the outskirts of JB, a city designed in direct contrast with Singapore. It's dirty, decadent and the city absolutely resounds of decay. There aren’t two distinctly different environments so close in the entire world, and it struck us intensely as we entered the fortress of JB.

After spending countless hours roaming the homely streets of JB for a bank machine to retrieve Malaysian currency, we arrived at the bus station just in time for the last bus out. We quickly hustled on for the three-hour ride to town of Mersing on the east coast of Malaysia. Early the next morning, we took the two-hour ferry ride from Mersing to the island of Tioman, noted as one of the ten most beautiful islands in the world as well as the locale for the filming of the movie "South Pacific." The small turtle-shaped island sits alone, miles from shore, in the crystal-clear blue waters of the Pacific. The wild, jungle-clad mountains roam the length of the small island and it possesses, by far, the clearest tropical water I've ever seen. The sandy sea floor and magnificently colored coral are easily spotted through the water, even as much as fifty feet below.

Tioman Island is an idyllic vision of enchanting beauty.

It is the "ideal" of a simple paradise.

The island has virtually no paved roads and just a few trails; it's a place where the visitors actually outnumber the local villagers. Although there are a couple high-end "get away from it all" resorts, the island is mainly dotted with tiny villages of small bungalows and restaurants for the visitors. Although tourism has grown quickly, the island remains untamed and wild. We decided to experience this pristine purity right away by embarking on a cross-island trek to the more remote side of the island. We lumbered our packs for two hours through the sodden and dark jungle that blankets the island when we finally reached the outstretching coconut palms of the remote east coast. We hiked another half-hour to furthest village south where the beach was completely isolated, and even the bungalows were all empty. As we were the only ones in this tiny, remote village we paid the unbelievable price of $8 US per night for a wooden bungalow directly on our own open stretch of white beach.

We dropped our bags in our simple hut and immediately headed to cool off in the tropical waters just fifty feet from our doorstep. As we lounged in the crystal waters, I casually looked down the white, pristine beach that stretched as far as I could see northward—not a soul. There was no sign of movement anywhere, just the gentle ocean breeze and the waves crashing on shore. We were completely alone in this wonder of sheer paradise. All of our senses consumed, the sun’s rays refreshingly dancing on our faces, we felt completely relaxed in the warm waters of the tropics, and we again soared through the heavens on the wings of pure liberty. We were baptized within its soothing waters and rejuvenated within. Oh, the absolute freedom, and I felt for the first time in that moment, a discernible sense of what we were so desperately searching for on this journey. I could touch it, I could see the path of the journey now, unfolding, winding ahead. I know now that Bali gave us this gift, the gift of a tangible direction. We were in the arms of fate now, and we had a distinct choice to make: face our fears of the unknown and climb those slippery, intimidating rungs upward, or to ignore entirely the signs. It went beyond just believing or not believing, now I was required to "actively" pursue my fate. And for the first time in my life, this decision—whether to actually accept the course of fate—was prominently laid forth in my consciousness.

***************

The problem with being so isolated however is finding food. Our tiny village has no restaurants or means of acquiring it. So, we left our hut in search of food, and after a half-hour walk back to the main village we found an appealing place—not that we had a choice. We entered the seemingly barren restaurant located on the beach and sat at the table across from the only other occupant, a smallish, elderly gentlemen wrapped in ornate, almost mystical looking robes. As we sat waiting for the menus, I found myself staring at him intensely. I couldn't remove my eyes from his back, something drew me, something summoned.

"Don't stare at the poor guy," Bren casually remarked.

"I can't help it," I offered still staring at this man who seemed, strangely, even more out of place than we did as Western tourists.

"Maybe I should ask him to join us?" I offered, almost rhetorically.

"Sure, go ahead," Bren said as I had already begun to rise from my stool.

After gingerly inquiring if he spoke English, which he did remarkably well, I asked him if he'd like to join us for dinner. He immediately agreed. He rose up with silky grace, and strode across the floor with soft, unassuming steps, finally taking a seat across from Bren and me at our table.

We all formally introduced ourselves and immediately engaged in a short discussion on America and our travels. I couldn't help but continue to stare at his round and bright face. He had an aura of effulgent radiance that seemed almost to blanket our souls just sitting in his presence. He was soft-spoken, almost shy to speak and yet kindness seemed to trickle from each delicately spoken word and compassion from his wrinkled, tender face.

I respected him. I lauded his way. And I was instantly reminded of Aponu in Fiji.

Bren finally broke the brief but comfortable, silence and asked, "So where are you from?"

"Thailand," he said softly.

"And so now you're just traveling around?" Bren continued.

"Yes, seeing some of the things I didn't when I was younger."

"You really do speak English well, where did you learn if you don’t mind me asking?" I inquired.

"At the monastery in Thailand."

"Really," I said with a jump of excitement, "so you are a Buddhist monk then?"

"Well, it's probably more accurate to say that I was, as I have temporarily left the monastery after many years..." he said drifting off.

My mind was immediately consumed with unfocused thoughts, they surged through my brain beckoning to be asked and almost instantly I had a thousand questions. I desperately challenged my impatience and paused; however, probably sensing my restlessness, the timid, diffident man continued, "I am now traveling in search of spiritual enlightenment, a sort of, well in English I think you'd call it, a search to rediscover one's faith."

My heart leapt, my mouth dropped agape and my eyes widened with utter disbelief. I didn't say a word, his shocking words twisting within my body, and I instantly became wild with anticipation, with delving deeper into his life. Yet, we all sat in comfortable silence.

I looked over his shoulder at the crashing waves of the ocean on shore just beyond, consumed with thoughts of his search, utterly daunted that someone was a "seeker" more defined than myself, someone so much further down the winding path of the journey. On a minimalist level, I felt an immediate bond with him, and I desperately resisted my obvious temptation to cry out, "So am I, so am I!"

I was just finishing that thought when Bren softly chimed in, "It's interesting, you have the same look in your eyes as Bri."

"Well, that's probably because we are in search of many of the same things," he said with a short glance in my direction and delicate, sly smile. It wasn’t some arbitrary statement thrown out in appeasement; no, there was something concrete and defining to his statement, his belief. Stunned, I slouched on the bench completely confounded, stirred by many of the same emotions that I felt in Bali with Eebu. I quickly interjected, "May I ask how you knew that?"

"Well, after many years studying people you come to understand them better. It's just a matter of observing people. Brenda is correct, it's indeed in the eyes."

"So, it's something you can see?" I asked still astonished.

"Yes. Actually, it is quite clear."

"What else can you see?" Bren inquired now with an almost insatiable curiosity, possibly initiated from missing an opportunity with Eebu. But this was no prophet, just an erudite monk.

He smiled wryly once again, looked down at the table shyly, and then glanced up at Brenda with such softness I have never before seen and whispered, "I can see that you are both very strong and that you will be together for a long time. I think you will achieve much together."

Both Bren and I hung our heads slightly embarrassed, but completely enthralled in the comfort of the thought.

We all sat in silence once again. Bren gently reached over and grabbed my hand under the table. It was a gentle affirmation of our growing bond, and in that moment I felt that we were strong and could indeed take on the entire world. I looked up to the monk, his eyes glistened and as our pupils locked he smiled softly. I could sense he was growing more comfortable with us; it all felt more open, yet it became obvious that no matter his driving curiosity he would not probe, he would not dare ask us a question. So, I broke the silence, again.

"If you don't mind me asking, have you left the monastery because your belief system has changed, or you are just seeking something more?"

"Well, it's probably more accurate to say that I am seeking something more than the Buddhist system of belief. I'm not saying that it is any better or worse, only that I feel that I no longer fit...comfortably anyway."

"Do you still consider yourself a Buddhist?" Bren asked.

"I don't really know at this particular moment, but probably yes. It will always be my basic belief system, and my way to see the world. It’s truly a beautiful system of belief or religion."

"What caused you to feel this discomfort with the Buddhist principles then?" Bren continued.

"I believe that it's more that I gained some sense of a different perspective," he said trailing off in thought for a moment before continuing, "but I began to contemplate 'happiness' and this left me with a feeling of emptiness. This became a troubling feeling because I really wouldn't know what happiness is, how do I know that I am happy? Generally, Buddhists believe that life on earth is suffering; that our existence here is a painful one. However, it is within the suffering that you learn to become happy, you find a sense of this by comparing your state of mind. You see the Buddhist believes that the disciplined mind leads to a calmness of mind, which then leads to happiness. The undisciplined mind holds the opposite and leads to suffering. I pursued this course from childhood, and yet one day something inside me felt wrong. I became confused," he explained with lingering hesitation, "and after discussing the matter with one of the other elders, he told me that I must find the truth. 'You must seek your truth' he told me."

"So you are seeking the truth of your reality, to define your existence," I asked.

"Exactly, I no longer feel in balance, or even that I’m moving forward toward this state of mind in which I’m happy," he said adamantly and for the first time with a defined lift in his voice, "I think, much like yourself."

I nodded instinctively in affirmation completely captured in this unexpected, but profound moment.

"You see, only by exercising balance and temperance can you achieve harmony," the monk said and after a slight pause he asked, "So now do you appreciate my conflict?"

"Yeah, I think I understand," I said, "but I'm not sure I quite understand the basis for the conflict. I don't think I know enough about Buddhism."

"Do you understand any Eastern philosophy and religion?" he excitedly inquired.

"Well, to some degree...I think I probably understand Taoism more than anything," I replied hesitatingly.

"Good, then we'll start there. What do you understand the concept to be in Taoism?"

"Well, that a person is to discover and live by the underlying pattern of the universe, that is by the Tao, or the ‘Way.’ In order to achieve unity with the Tao, you must not do anything artificial or unnatural," I said.

"Eventually, you are able develop this to a point where you can transcend all the mundane distinctions in life," Bren quickly added gripping slightly harder my hand under the table. There was a growing fervor of excitement in the air, and it clearly touched us all.

The monk answered, "That's good! The distinction, the key, however, is that under the heavy rock of complexity lies pure happiness. In other words, the key to Taoism is simplicity, and through living your life in simplicity you can understand more clearly the lessons of life, and ultimately live harmoniously with life and its surroundings."

I immediately reflected on the Cook Islands, where I recalled wondering if a simpler way of life bred happiness. I definitely believed after our experiences that with more simplicity, the easier it was to see and understand the lessons of life. Yes, now I saw it clearly, that with simplicity you are able to not only see with clarity what is important but you are able to actually appreciate. And with this greater sense of perspective and appreciation, it will lead naturally to a greater sense of "happiness."

"That's interesting," I then said with a spark, "because on some level traveling itself is the ‘Way’ of the Tao. That life is simple and plain, where spontaneity grips each moment of your being, and each day is littered with contentment and a genuine sense of satisfaction—a feeling I can tell you I rarely experience living as we do in the States."

"Yeah, we are presently living the Tao," Bren subtly joked.

"We are definitely Taoists on some level even at home," I interjected, directing it more toward Bren.

"Undoubtedly you are, that's clear. More than that, however, the underlying pattern of the universe, or the Tao, has brought me to you. I am thankful for this," he said with a quick bow of his bald head.

"With each person I was destined to meet," he continued, "like you two, the truth I seek becomes further defined. I am discovering my truth right now."

"I don't mean to interrupt, but then you don't believe in coincidences?" Bren asked.

"There is no such thing," he quickly said with a wry, taut smile, "such a term is applicable only in superficial matters, it exists only on level which does not matter."

"So you truly believe that in the ‘underlying pattern of the universe’ that I who lived in Pittsburgh, in the United States of America, was destined or fated to meet you, the Buddhist monk from Thailand on the remote island of Tioman in Malaysia?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course. It's not the distance that matters but the energy of the spirit. I think we were destined to meet. You must have faith in this, my friends," he said with another smile.

"Yes, but we could have decided not to have come on this trip at all, precluding this meeting," Bren interjected.

"He's not discounting the ‘choice’ of free will, I believe that he's saying that on one level we were destined to meet. We can choose differently, but if the energies of the people involved stay strong, they will eventually meet."

"Well said, my friend," he said with a smile, "you should have been a monk I think."

"Then I couldn't be with Bren," I said with a chuckle.

After the three of us laughed briefly, we all sat once again consumed in thought and finished eating our meals. I thought about his choice of words, and they rang through my head, this pattern of words that seemed to be part of me now: faith, coincidence, fate, and harmony. Indeed, as the events began to unfold in Australia, and feeling one with the universe on some basic level, then with all the oddities in Bali, and finding a piece of "faith," and now here with the Buddhist monk in Malaysia, it all seemed to illustrate a distinct pattern. Could it be the Way, the Tao, illuminating the golden path of the journey for me? Indeed, I felt as if something was being shown to me, something I needed to learn, and learn now. In fact, on a level that was becoming more discernible every day, I actually felt the presence of this pattern. I was consciously aware of its distinct thumping within me and I wondered, was it the "underlying pattern of the universe" of the learned monk?

As we sat watching the sunset from our wood benches in the restaurant, our monk continued, "One part I didn't finish on Taoism and it may be the most important, is that living the Tao also means living and experiencing life beyond an intellectual level. It is more like analyzing something logically but then letting your emotions and senses take over and it lifts your experience to a point your mind alone cannot. That's the essence of Taoism."

Bren immediately shot a glare in my direction, fully realizing my "feelings" in Bali, and my struggle with overcoming the logic that bound my world, to let go and freely accept a higher "awareness" in life. My gut instantly tightened and I wondered to myself, "Who is doing this, bringing us together at this precise moment in time?"

So much of life is shrouded in utter, even painful, darkness, and yet this moment was filled with light, a white, focused, stream of pure light. Is this part of the "pattern?" Is this "pattern" somewhere in another dimension that now affects me, is it built into the fabric of earth itself, or is it built within me?

Our monk then stopped, folded his hands in his lap, smiled softly at us and looked out at the sun descending into the sea beyond. He was captured in its spell and we were in his. As the sun finally departed from view, he turned to us and continued, "You see one of the more interesting aspects of Taoism is that it is believed that earth is a mere reflection of heaven; that is, earth is really managed by the rules of heaven, not by the laws of men. That is the 'Way'."

"That's also ironic, because it's a very similar concept to what we were talking about just a couple weeks ago in Bali," Bren replied with a bit of shock.

"Yes? Explain this to me," he calmly whispered.

"Well, Bri was saying that why would the heavens, or the dimension in which it exists, be that much different than that of the realm of earth. Why would we be exposed to and learn from these experiences here just to find the 'rules' completely different on the other side. There must be a carry-over; otherwise, life here just doesn't make sense--"

"Yes, it's like earth is a shadow of that dimension, a shadow we cannot see, but can only sense," I interjected, "and I definitely agree that it's logical that the 'rules' of the universe would control our actions, even in ways we cannot perceive or even understand."

The monk smiled almost in surprise, yet he remained completely composed. Calm. I could see however that his eyes buzzed—he was engaged, he was excited. He smiled sweetly as he replied, "That's an interesting way of viewing earth, a shadow of the heavens. Hmm, I like this; it’s more descriptive than a ‘reflection of the heavens.’ Yes I like this..."

"You study philosophy I see?" he then offered continuing his flow of thought.

"No, not really. It was more of an intuitive thought."

He paused, and looked to his plate in pensive thought before continuing, "In Taoism, however, you are to ignore the ways of society and follow the 'Way' or the underlying pattern of the universe."

After a short pause he continued, "This is the opposite of Confucianism where the focus is on cultivating moral perfection through the leader of the society. You are to follow strictly the ways of society and focus on proper societal conduct, not the underlying way of the universe."

He paused for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused, he seemed to be looking beyond, seeing beyond that moment in time, almost locked in meditation.

Then suddenly, although obviously still gripped in reflective thought, the monk exclaimed, "Well...as you can see I too am living the Tao," and with a swift nod of head downward he looked me dead in the eye and continued, "So that's also part of the conflict I am presently experiencing."

I wondered in that moment was this an arbitrarily "lost" Buddhist monk, or was I in the presence of someone special, someone who has yet to realize his brilliance and that his forlorn state was truly one of a heightening epiphany. And instantly I thought, even felt, the latter—for what courage it would take to confront your religion on such a personal basis, to attempt to rediscover the "truth" in your soul even in possible opposition to what you’ve been told your entire life, in possible opposition to your entire society. I glanced upward to him, and I was held in absolute awe of this soul before me. He didn’t have to even say a word and he would touch me deep inside, a place where the darkest of secrets are hidden. He was one of those people you rarely meet in life, where upon meeting them you feel the "urge" to divulge your most intimate thoughts and deeds.

I was captured and yet freed by this gracious monk.

He pushed on, now undeterred, virtually consumed with our discussion, "You see, Buddhism is constructed around the belief that life is suffering, that our existence is filled with pain. This suffering is caused by our own ignorance, ignorance of reality, which results naturally in grasping for attachments, or in other words, reaching toward a material life. Desire. Also, a point that many fail to understand on your side of the world, is that it doesn't matter either whether it's western materialism or communistic materialism, it's all one in the same. Overcoming the ignorance, however, can only end this suffering, and ironically, only by enduring the suffering can you understand ‘happiness.’ It is this struggle that leads you toward a state of mind where you understand yourself, and what will make you happy. This path, this struggle, one in which you suppress the suffering requires you to adhere to strict principles or rules. In a very simple form, this is the four 'noble truths' of Buddhism."

"And your 'karma' fluctuates based on your following those principles," I casually inquired.

"Yes, it's basically a give and take process, where your evil actions are punished and the good rewarded. A better way of explaining it is that human action operates according to a natural moral law, a universal form of justice. Of course, that's opposed to the Christian belief of divine judgment. Your 'karma' then is formed from your actions according to this natural moral law."

"Yes, but can't divine judgment as the Christians believe and the natural moral law of 'karma' from the Buddhists belief co-exist?" I asked.

"I don't really understand," I continued, "why they necessarily have to oppose each other...for I always perceived 'karma' to be the marker of our evolution spiritually. In fact, now that I think of it, in a reincarnation perspective, it could be the flow of energy which transcends the physical and continues your evolution life to life."

He paused. "Hmmm, well on some level they could. That part about karma being the marker of our evolution is very interesting. Well said; however, Buddhists believe that the world is 'just as it is.' That nature cannot be grasped by any fixed system or definition, which on another level, would preclude divine judgment as you would certainly need a fixed classification system to base this divine judgment on."

After a short pause to reflect on the monk's point Bren asked, "Speaking of reincarnation, I always thought that it played a significant role in the system of Buddhism?"

"Yes, it certainly does in some form, but Buddhists don't believe in the existence of a permanent soul, so it's really not reincarnation. It's more of a renewed existence. And, in theory, the goal of Buddhism or the way to eliminate the renewed cycles of suffering is to reach 'Nirvana', a state of enlightenment."

"So, you're saying that Buddhists basically believe that our lives, or more properly our existence, are kind of like a spinning wheel of pain. The more you indulge your ignorance through materialism and the attachments, the faster it spins and because of the ignorance, the more pain that results. Your actions in accordance to the natural moral law create your 'karma', or the spin of the wheel, which inevitably carries you, for good or bad, over into your next life cycle. This cycle then can only be stopped by stripping the ignorance of your existence—reaching Nirvana, and in an ironic way, by giving up pleasure."

He smiled gingerly, almost painfully, as he nodded his head up and down.

"However, that’s where it can get confusing, because this ‘pleasure’ is not necessarily bad according to Buddhists, merely the pleasure resulting from ‘self-gratification’. You see, it’s within individuals to conquer their own suffering state of mind, to put the ‘happiness’ in perspective, and that’s why it’s crucial to maintain a stable, calm mind. It’s a discipline of the mind, body and spirit to identify these elements that leads to happiness or suffering. To put them into perspective, it’s this freedom from suffering which is the focal point."

"So, then it would be important to change your perspective to better understand your state of mind, your happiness or suffering. Because it adds a depth to your being, helps you to cultivate a higher state of ‘awareness’," I then said.

Bren looked at me out of the corner of her eye, realizing that I was now testing my theories, my personal thoughts earlier in the trip.

"Yes, exactly. I can tell you that I believe in what you say, there is much truth there for me. But I do believe that it’s difficult for the average Buddhist to seek adventures like this to enhance their perspective, and that’s why we have so many parables we relate. Sometimes, however, that just isn’t enough."

Bren was now staring, caught in the mind warp between the monk and myself. We were in another time, connected by our energy, our spirits, and it was almost as if we were long lost friends, who after years apart didn’t miss a beat. From total strangers, we became one.

"Now, you understand the inherent conflict...that I am indulging the ignorance by the mere fact that I question the suffering and can no longer identify those elements which make me feel happy. It is a very fine distinction, but one that has many consequences."

"Wow, it seems quite a burden to view the world that way...one filled with pain, all of us burdened with suffering toward learning how to suppress this pain," Bren interjected.

"Yeah, it strikes me that Buddhists believe therefore that humans are inherently bad or evil, and that only through suffering can we learn to understand good," I added.

I sat mired in thought for a moment when the monk abruptly asked, "Please continue, my friend."

"Well, two things come to mind. First, because suffering constitutes such a critical piece in the evolution of our being, and knowing human nature, it just seems that as much as we need the suffering to grow, most will avoid it. Also, on this same point, the happier you become the less you will desire to indulge the suffering, which you may still need to evolve. It’s just human nature to take the path of least resistance, and so what you are saying is interesting because I’m a firm believer that part of our primary lesson here in this realm is to learn not to take the path of least resistance. That is, to battle this storm which rages within our human imperfections."

He smiled broadly but said nothing. He gazed at me deeply, and with a methodical turn of his head, he seemed to be looking into the depths of my soul—he seemed to see right through me. Yet surprisingly, I was comfortable with it, it almost seemed familiar and I continued, "Okay, and second, I just don't believe that we are inherently evil creatures, maybe we carry some karmic evil with us, but I don't believe we are evil from the beginning."

I then went on to explain the recent events in Bali with Eebu and her revelation of my past incarnation. He was fascinated, even excited, hearing of my search for "faith." He seemed to lose his sense of inhibition, as he began asking both of us question after question probing for even the finest of details on our intense search.

"Yes, you should be a monk, my friend," he then said jokingly.

I sat in silence stunned not so much by the statement, but by the display of humor. It seemed out of character; it was a long suppressed piece of the man who could have been, of a man who had struggled with who he was—the essence of his being. I looked into his eyes, and I saw it plainly, the struggle of the man inside. In that display of humor, I could see the imbalance as he spoke of it. Yet, to me, it seemed more like a fire had been unleashed, a passion for the essence of life had finally been tapped. He was reaching out to touch life in a way natural to him.

"Maybe I already was...maybe I was a monk previously," I joked back.

As I sat watching him laugh out loud, I could see his inner being emerging, reaching out, extending and we connected again somehow...by what we sought, in our search for balance, but also by something even deeper. I don't know if he was ever truly "in balance" before, but I knew as I looked at him that he was a man I could only hope one day to be...I was indeed a mere shadow of this ‘heaven’ before me. His search was so refined, focused, and I could only hope one day to be in search of such a small distinction to add to the quality of my being. To be filled with such wisdom, such compassion and love, and toward the end of life filled with suffering, and still continuing the precious search for more, something deeper, simply rocked my being. I knew this man, this soul before me, was indeed a reflection of the beyond.

"And what is it that you have learned from this revelation of faith as you speak of it?" he asked as a teacher would to his or her student.

"Well, it’s only a piece of it. But that reincarnation is logical, and could provide a foundation from which the soul could seek, find, and ultimately achieve its purpose."

"So you then believe that we do have a purpose?" he again asked with a teacher-like inquisition.

"Yes," I said as I shook my head up and down.

"And what do you believe that to be, my friend?" he asked almost as if he knew my answers before I gave them, and he was merely offering me the profound opportunity to express my deepest thoughts.

"Well, this is just a theory...but contrary to many who think our existence here is to find 'peace', I think it's much more logical that our existence is to learn how to deal with 'peace' not necessarily be at 'peace'. I think our spiritual entity upon death of the physical body in and of itself provides some sense of the 'peace'."

"Hmm," he said engrossed in thought, "I've never thought about it quite that way…I know I ask too many questions, my friend, but what of the purpose of being here on earth?" he quickly inquired.

"To learn the lessons necessary to achieve our purpose, to find, in a generic sense, enlightenment. That is, learning to deal with this 'peace'. And it's necessary to experience life as a human being, with the full capacity of our senses, to feel, understand and gauge our growth within a world of imperfection and hardship to move toward this enlightenment. To find a sense of ‘purity’ from an impure entity and in an impure environment."

I went on further, "That's why I believe that your personal search is an integral part of your being, and it’s your growth towards your purpose of achieving Nirvana. It's just that I think you need all your senses to understand your growth, not just suffering."

"You do not believe in the Buddhist way then?"

"Well, I agree with much of the Buddhist's principles that you speak of, but I don't understand the 'suffering' part of the equation. I guess I’ll have to think about it some more..."

He gazed at me intensely, warmly, and in that moment I felt love freely flow through my body, and much like the experiences with Aponu in Fiji, and Jay and Lisa in Australia, I felt whole, I felt something tangible beyond myself, and within this glowing love, I felt "significant." It was love without judgment or prejudice; it was a warmth of thought and energy that somehow was communicated to me. He was seeking to understand me, and in doing so, he was contributing to the essence of me. That’s why his presence felt similar to Aponu, even though they were so drastically different, because he was seeking to "give back" love, compassion, and simple kindness to me. He wasn’t seeking something from me, as so many others do. It was in that moment that the light within grew, it exploded and I felt a warmth that illuminated everything about me. The creative energy flowed with puissance and this tidal flow surged and I knew that’s why I felt "significant." When you give back, while another is giving back, it naturally joins both parties, it creates a sense of "oneness" that lifts the beings to a higher, more ethereal level of being. And within this state, you feel distinctly a heightened state of "awareness," you feel as if you know more, you feel more, and indeed, you are more.

But as I was filled with this overwhelming feeling of light, the monk said, "What you have taught me today is much more than words. There's so much, so much to think about, my friend...my teacher...but I must now take my leave."

"Your teacher?" I said incredulously.

"Yes, you have taught me much," he said with a slight bow of his head in respect, "You have taught me very much, my friend, and I know that we were always destined to meet, and for this I give many thanks."

"But you have taught me so much more--" I replied stammering, almost unnerved by his statement.

"Indeed, you are a teacher and you must understand this," he quickly interjected.

"I couldn't possibly have--"

"But, oh yes, you have!" the monk said calmly interrupting me, "You've taught many people; every day and not just in this life, for we are all teachers and students of life. But the most important lesson of all, and always remember this my friend, is that the best teachers are forever students."

He stood up from the table, wrapped tighter the flowing robes around himself, and bowed to Bren with his hands firmly clenched in front. Bren returned the bow, and after repeating the same gesture to me, I likewise bent toward him. He then straightened, looked me sternly in the eye and whispered, "Brian, you must understand this...your wisdom is limited only by your own fear. Fear not, and your words will be filled with wisdom. This, you should never forget."

***************

Bren and I walked back to our hut in virtual silence, still riveting from our discussion with the mystical monk. We moved out to lie on the desolate beach and enjoy the warm night air of the tropics. We lit a small fire, snuggled together in the sand, listened to waves lapping softly on shore, stared up at the star-filled dome above us and breathed in the intoxicating air of the tropics. As we both gazed up at the stars, arm in arm, I couldn't help but think of the monk. He was such an imposing figure for one so soft-spoken and delicate mannered. Just speaking with him for a short time, I realized how much he expanded my thinking, and how important it is to keep an open mind toward all religions and ideologies. It seems that it's human nature that the more convicted one is to a belief, the less they are willing to hear other ideas and thoughts that challenge their way of thinking.

If we remove the "religious" distinction from these long-standing doctrines and attempt to understand them merely as ideologies, then it permits us to analyze their "truth" without being consumed with distorted human emotions. For example, in Buddhism the primary concept is that you must transcend the physical reality of earth toward a more pure spiritual existence. One devoid of ignorance, greed, selfishness, egoism, and cruelty, and this is much like the precepts of all religions. It’s just taught in a different manner. Without a doubt, intuitively part of our purpose here in earth is to better ourselves as human beings, and each of these doctrines (or religions) is supposed to be helping us toward that objective. It is much more conducive to our basic learning here in this environment to approach the different religions as "ideologies of the human spirit." It puts us all on the same page and helps remove the ugly, oft-times fanatical, prejudices we innately experience, and are taught, as human beings.

Again, we are all different, but the same.

There is so much here within the realm of Buddhism that is central to life, and consequently so much to learn from this classic and refined body of wisdom. However, it doesn't seem rational that we do it only through the means of suffering, or that the lessons of the universe can only be learned through personal sufferance. In this regard, why then would you be given the wildly diverse feelings, sensations and emotions of being human? Under the Buddhist theory you are born therefore with these attributes to permit you to experience this pain only to then to learn to suppress it. Yes, I know from personal relationships that within the pain, lays growth. Indeed, such is life, and it’s our choice to accept this pain, and likewise seek the growth. It’s our own individual Pemberton Tree. Certainly, Buddhism assists people by mechanically pushing them to understand from that pain, and to learn to nourish the soul from the experience. Yes, the essence of life is found within the struggle, and Buddhist philosophy bears this out, ironically almost painfully so. However, it also strikes me that the underlying theme of this ideology is based largely on fear, fear of allowing the individual the free choice to experience life, including its pleasures. Fear of human expression. Fear of the evil that lurks inside us all. I feel deeply now, that our monk realized this aspect within his thought pattern. The theory painfully cries out that by learning to suppress the potential evil in us, the closer you'll be to being spiritually pure, or the closer you'll be to reaching the state of enlightenment in Nirvana. That is, if you deny or suppress that which makes us human, you'll be more enlightened, more spiritual. We are human, and to me there is something uniquely special about human expression. It's what we are, and to deny this is to deny our existence, spiritual or otherwise.

But it begs the question, is to be "human" to learn to mold your being without the suffering and pain? Or, is pain and suffering part of the experience, which can never be extinguished? I don’t know, but it goes back to reincarnation and our purpose. Central to this idea within Buddhism is that we are to learn to be at "peace" here in this realm, to be "happy" and avoid the suffering. However, it strikes me that there will always be pain and suffering in the human existence, and this is a good thing. I remember Edel and my thoughts on war in the Blue Mountains of Australia, and just how imperative it is to the human existence that we never forget the pain of our prior actions, that we accept the responsibility of our decisions even generations later. That is the pain and suffering, we should all as human beings endure. It cultivates our growth, the evolution our being. It also strikes me profoundly that we are not here to learn to be at peace, but merely to learn to accept it when we do receive it. Buddhism stresses happiness by virtue of placing your suffering state of mind in perspective, but this is inherently restrictive because one, it presumes that "happiness" is the ultimate goal for us, and two that it is attainable here in the earthly plane.

Is it possible that we as souls must experience this suffering, this pain, in order to grow, and this is one of the primary reasons for the creation of the earthly plane, for it by its very nature creates our own Pemberton Tree to climb? That here we are not supposed to find a resounding sense of "happiness" and "contentment?" Yes, for when we move back to our natural state we are not doused for all of eternity with feelings of suffering and pain, so we grow from them in this plane, we learn and move on toward accepting our peace. The memory remains, but not the pain. Is this the purpose of earth, to hold us in this separate state of growth, so that we better understand our natural state and realm?

Without a doubt, whether the Buddhist philosophy merely uses human expression as tool to greater end isn’t as poignant as is its overall message and theme that the "purpose" of life here in this realm is to be "happy." This happiness again is to be derived from consistently achieving positive state of mind by stripping one’s ignorance—this ignorance results naturally from self-satisfaction in the moment. Yes, the philosophy creates a flow of selflessness, one that generally demonstrates that from this selflessness, and a calm state of mind, comes happiness. Yet for the logical and natural state of this thought, it strikes me oddly as I look to the heavens above that this would be our sole purpose, to just be "happy." It seems almost self-indulgent, one at least excessively devoted to the individual’s own well being. But is it possible to be self-indulgent in being selfless? It troubles my spirit deep within, that this realm is devoted to creating a classroom so that we could learn to be "happy." That creating a whirlwind of "happiness" within ourselves is our divine purpose in this realm, and even possibly beyond, because if we are to find "happiness" here, what is our purpose beyond? No, it lacks the logical carry-over into the next realm, and again, I’m left with the thought that we must experience the suffering the pain to grow, and dangle in this realm by our celestial strings to gain "perspective" within our being and learn to appreciate and accept our "peace."

The primary difference it seems between Taoism and Buddhism is that the Taoist believes that the world is a teacher of valuable lessons that enrich your life and stimulate personal growth, whereas the Buddhist seems to believe that the world is one giant trap causing them endless pain. I have to think that both seem to hold true to some degree. Life is undeniably a series of the challenges (as the Taoists believe) of which many are traps (as the Buddhists believe) from which we as individuals either flourish or fail. Naturally, meeting these challenges is always a struggle. But contrary to the Buddhist view, I don't think it necessarily must include strictly pain or suffering, for the Buddhist way boils down to using the gift of human expression merely as a tool to determine whether you are suffering from ignorance or happiness from "understanding." Rather, I think our diverse capacity for expression, as a human being is fundamentally necessary to personal growth. Indeed, human expression is the shining beacon that illuminates our path to "understanding" the struggle of life; it builds within us an "awareness" which becomes the light guiding our lives. This could be the "underlying pattern," and one in which we need the tools of human expression to discover.

Taoists seem to be in tune with this. The theory behind Taoism places much more emphasis on the individual's personal path toward achieving spiritual purity. In essence, it places the personal choice and the onus of spiritual discovery in the hands of the individual. Also, and contrary to Buddhism and even Hindu beliefs, it strikes me that Taoism stresses our individual differences, that our individuality helps to contribute to the whole of the universe, and possibly even to "God." This philosophy goes beyond the idea that "happiness" is our sole purpose, one that seeking our spirituality individually is an integral part of our being and identifies our purpose here in this realm. It naturally contributes back to the greater whole. Indeed, that our purpose is related to our relationship with the whole of humanity and not simply based on the individual.

Each philosophy however seems to be self-limiting. Buddhism is a profound deposit of wisdom establishing the base of a positive state of mind; however, it sorely lacks a vision for the future, one that would assist each individual in uncovering their "mission," their "destiny" in this life. The Confucius’ perspective, that the strict societal rules should govern and lead you to a more pure existence, precludes one from searching inward, a self-discovery that is the basis for understanding one’s "mission." Finally, Taoism begs the opposite problem, in that we should completely ignore the mandates and rules of society in seeking this moral high ground. This is restrictive, especially in America, where the majority look to society, their religious and political leaders, for a set of rules to guide them by, one where (for now) we need a firm set of guiding principles which everyone lives up to without exception. In America, we are taught to respect our founding principles; it’s just that we as Americans forget somewhere along the line to apply those principles in their daily life. For example then, I think it must be combination of the leaders in society accepting the moral high ground, in essence showing some example to the masses—they don’t have to be better, just uphold our common "ideals." But this shouldn’t be absolutely controlling either, as it should be incumbent upon each of us individually to apply these "ideals" in establishing a positive state of mind and discovering the "underlying pattern of the universe."

If we have mechanisms set up, especially in America, to assist, even enhance, one in discovering their own individual existence, their unique place, in the underlying pattern of the universe...to help them grow spiritually, it would be a much less divisive culture. Likewise, in addition to that component, if we had our leaders, politicians, religious icons, and other prominent figures of the community focusing on their moral impact on the masses, and accept responsibility for it, it would also greatly enhance the bonds of the community and society. It would also intensify the bond between each individual with the universe. These two components instill a sense of "faith," one that naturally builds instead of destroys. Without a doubt, that's something sorely lacking in American society today.

In this regard, we are all on this "journey" together like it or not. More poignantly, it strikes me that each individual is on their own distinctive path in the universe, where each holds its own unique position, but the lessons I've personally learned in life have taught me that we are also equally dependent upon each other to assist us along this unique path. Again, as I learned in Oz, we are the same first, different second. So we are all on the same "journey" just different paths. Yes, we even seek out this help every day, we seek it out in our personal relationships, and indeed we cherish it as the biggest, most important, most sacred, component of our society, the family. This is basically true for every nation in the entire world. On a practical level, you rarely see a person, without the strength of a stable family, without the aid of friends and others around him, happy, or content. One can in America be rich, have a plethora of possessions, be considered "successful" and yet not be "happy." In fact, we see it every day and everywhere we look. To me, dependency on others in society is just as integral to discovering and finding a more pure, spiritual existence, as the personal pursuit each of us embarks upon individually. It’s a lesson that we in America must once again embrace much like our forefathers, and take to the next level of our human existence. Truly, they have established an extraordinary example, not just for America, but the world.

The three ideologies together, however, create a backdrop of a well-rounded way of life, creating a path for the individual as well as one for the collective. Naturally, and most importantly, we need each other to support our "faith," for each step toward having faith in another is a step toward having "faith" in "God." This is a crucial step, for once one has developed a sense of perspective and appreciation (Buddhist Way), they can then step forward with direction and learn to trust in the "underlying pattern of the universe" (Taoist Way). That is, by eliminating one’s ignorance, you reduce the suffering and create a positive state of mind. From this position, you are then able to capitalize fully on the Taoist position to move forward by following the "underlying pattern" and unearth your personal "destiny"—your individual purpose in this realm. Even more, by following in part, Confucius’ philosophy by having our leaders (religious and otherwise) living up to and becoming the example, we create a world intertwined with selflessness, compassion, direction from the underlying pattern, and examples to follow, examples that bind and unify us. Strikingly, it is the combination of these ideologies (religions) that creates a fuller embodiment of the tools necessary to sustain personal spiritual growth, and ultimately to learn to accept and appreciate our divine "peace." Indeed, it may be the combination of these ideologies (religions) that create the tools not only in discovering our purpose individually, but eventually, our purpose collectively. Once again, this is not the end, the conclusion, but merely a beginning.

I sat back wedged comfortably into the cool sand, staring at the night sky, the same sky as in New Zealand, Australia and Indonesia, and it’s become much like the sunsets a common ribbon flowing through my journey offering me solace and a sense of commonality. It gives me strength, this night sky littered with so many points of light. I realized then that this world is hopelessly intertwined, and so are our philosophies, our religions, the earth, and even us as individuals. I knew then that our Tioman Monk was right and the "underlying pattern of this universe" is real. It’s a tapestry woven to include us as human beings and it is subtly interconnected with everything that is tangible in this world, in this realm of existence, and possibly even beyond. The "underlying pattern" sings its own distinctive, charming tune, one that offers us control of our destiny; however, we as human beings presently just don’t hear the call of its endearing melody. We choose not to listen, because to listen would be to believe in ourselves, that togetherness, our interconnectedness, as human beings is the greatest strength any of us can experience in this realm. And this, this special lyric of the human existence requires "faith," something so few of us have ever truly embraced.

I look up at those stars one final time, and they fill me with a penetrating energy, one of strength and power, and I feel in that moment Mary, indeed I hear her words, and I feel the breath of her "faith" being softly whispered in my ear. And the profound strings of this "pattern" I sense in everything I see and touch, and now I am beginning to see its grandeur in everything I don’t.

***************

Over those next few days we were occupied with relaxing activities, just soaking up our isolated breath-taking surroundings. We became good friends with the only other couple seemingly on this entire side of the island and ended up spending each evening on the deck of our hut talking into the wee hours of the morning. This is the life I love so much, it's a pure reflection of traveling. It's a sweep of fresh air blowing through a room; you feel it, you breathe it, and it lifts you up. It takes you to a place you’ve never been before, a place you desire to be and never forget. That's been Tioman Island. It's been reminiscent of our days in the Cooks and Fiji, where some of our best days were spent. The push over the last two months from Sydney, through Indonesia to Singapore has been intense. Even the days spent relaxing on Gili Nanggu were filled with anxiety and trepidation over the stolen bags, and filled with the will to fulfill our quest to discover the truth to Eebu’s visions, my "test." And although the spirit of the quest undeniably took us places and showed us glimpses of things we'd otherwise never have been exposed to, it was nevertheless an exhausting pilgrimage. The days here have been a release, like that which we experienced in the Cooks and Fiji, a sweet taste of dripping innocence. It’s much like the freedom we experienced in Pt. Anne, in that once it’s been felt, you’ll fight with everything you have to be within its glowing light again.

After a ferry ride back to the more touristy western side of the island, we took the "rapid" ferry back to the mainland. We immediately boarded a bus for the long trip across the peninsula to the western side of Malaysia, to the historic city of Malacca. After traveling since dawn, we emerged from the bus late in the evening run-down, hungry, and consumed with confusion. Bren was to have figured out our place to stay; however, she didn’t and in her frustration she just arbitrarily picked a spot, which then infuriated me. To make matters worse, Bren had the map and couldn't figure out which way to turn to find our way to the hostel. It was another coal thrown onto an already stoked fire. Bren then became frustrated and cried out, "Let's just take a cab!"

"What? That's ridiculous. Just because you can't find your way around, you want to throw money away on a cab. No way, it’s not happening," I sternly replied.

"Fine, okay control boy," Bren said agitatingly and quickly burying her head back in the map. With our bags growing heavier by the moment we roamed the streets of Malacca desperately trying to make heads or tails of the landscape. Finally, I couldn't take it any more, my patience ended, "Let me have it, we're never going to get there otherwise," and I grabbed the book with the map.

"Okay then, there ya go smart ass!" Bren said pulling the book away from me and then throwing it at me.

We headed back in the direction we started, or so I thought, and we ended even more confused than when we began. I kept glancing at Bren waiting, waiting for the snide remark, but none was forthcoming. It was enough to see me wallowing in confusion. Finally, I realized where we were but by then Bren was completely exhausted, so I relented and inquired with the taxi drivers about a price to the hostel.

Undoubtedly, these guys had humored themselves watching us lug our monstrous packs around in circles wilting in the heat. They cherished this moment. Each driver quoted some outrageous figure, one right after the other, one of single most cohesive conspiracies in the history of mankind, or so it seemed. I blew my top. I absolutely refused to give in, "I'll walk ten miles with both packs before I give them a dime..." I was bitterly spouting off.

Bren said nothing.

"I won't let them benefit from our misfortune," I continued.

"I'm with you; really I am," Bren replied wearily.

I took her bag, slung it over my other shoulder and trudged onward; to where, however, neither of us really knew. Now, we were again together, and it was us against the world.

"Ya know, the strange part Bri; we're stranded!" Bren said with chuckle of irony and despair, "You know that, because it's really too far to walk with our packs, there aren’t any buses, and we refuse to take a taxi from the stand," she cried out, "We're stranded!"

"I know, baby. I really can't believe this though, how can we get stranded just trying to get around in a city."

Just as I was saying this, and we were truly at the end of our short rope, fully consumed with despair, an older gentleman stopped his motorbike right next to us.

"Do you need any help?" he asked through the glimmer of darkness of dusk.

"Well, we're trying to find a hostel, this hostel," I answered as I pointed to the name in the guidebook.

"Oh yes, I know this place well," he said as he pulled out a cellular phone and informed the hostel that an American couple would arrive shortly and make sure a double room was available.

Bren and I stared at each other in absolute disbelief.

"You must take a taxi to this hotel however."

"Well, we've had a bit of a problem with the taxis, they all seem to want to overcharge us," I said.

"Come, my new American friends, find a cheap taxi we will!"

"But how did you—" Bren began saying.

"Oh, I own the place you were looking for," he said with a hearty laugh that echoed through the streets of a dimly lit Malacca. A few moments later the unbelievable irony became fulfilled as we entered a cab for only a fraction of the prices quoted earlier.

"I'm really beginning to expect things like this to occur," Bren said looking out the window and up to the heavens above, "and it's spooky!"

It all seemed like a subtle tap from our monk in Tioman. I could almost hear him in his delicate manner and softness whispering, "patience, patience, my friend; you must have faith in the underlying pattern of the universe. It will all work out if you only choose to let it...have faith."

I knew as I sat listless and limp in the back seat of the taxi, that if he indeed had spoken those words to me, I would have believed them. I did believe them. I knew that this was yet another lesson, another overt and painful sign of my reluctance to grab and hold the hand of faith. In this ignorance, I was suffering and I just couldn’t find the release, I just couldn’t believe. Yes, I still clung, in the name of Linus, to my blanket of self-reliance and control. As far as I perceived I had come, I knew I had still much further to go. I knew that I must change, I must learn to trust, I must close my eyes and blindly walk forth...or what I truly seek I shall never find.

***************

Malacca is said to be Malaysia's most interesting city and after a quick walk around town I soon understood why. Because Malacca was the focal point for the Portuguese, Dutch and British invasions, the city clings to the vestiges of these European influences. Much of the old Dutch city remains, this combined with streets filled with old antique stores, Chinese temples, and the traditional Malay kumpung houses make for a distinctive mix of European and Asian cultures. However, the economic boom that has recently bustled through Malaysia is abundantly evident (Note: before the SE Asian economic crisis), and Malacca has now become a mix of not only clashing cultures but also a blend of modernization and the traditional. Unlike so many other cities where this opposition is subtle, here it is not and it’s representative of the people as well.

In fact, close to our hostel is a modern mall, modern even by American standards. Over the next few days we made several trips to the mall to replenish our lost and used items. My first impression and possibly the most interesting aspect of Malacca and our first true taste of Malaysia was that it’s definitely not a third-world country. The city is laced with the modern, technology abounds, and the people seem to have adjusted to this fast-paced lifestyle already. In fact, surprisingly they struck me as genuinely stoic, detached, almost snobby. The people who waited on us in restaurants and in the stores were short, cavalier and strangely haughty toward us. It was a constant annoying hissing in my ears, and it and breathed a steely darkness into my lungs. I felt mortal here, afraid and tempted at every turn by the self-indulgence, for everyone here was the center of their own universe.

As we perused the mall, people all around us were fashionably dressed, eating at nice restaurants, and carrying cell phones. They seemed to be immensely enthralled by their taste of western culture. It struck me that it had taken its toll as well, they seemed to be a tense and highly stressed group of people, almost frantic as if they were spending their last dime making that cell phone call. None of it sat well with me, it reminded me of so much of what ails America. I grew sick. I felt like I had gotten ill by over indulging in alcohol and in my hungover state I was then catching a whiff of its potency once again. Unfortunately, after all the wonderful architecture and history of Malacca, I know that the mall and the people are what I'll remember most, what will endure.

A short two-hour jaunt up the road put us in the capital and the largest city in Malaysia, Kuala Lampur, known better as just KL. Once again we were in a big city, and once again our accommodations were less than desirable. The room was composed of a double bed and just enough room for our bags. It's stifling hot and the ceiling fan does little except stir the pungent air into our nostrils. The pounding sounds of the city whip through the air of the room almost as voraciously as the heat and the stench. Even in the stifling heat, this industrial world was bone-chilling cold, and it unnatural ripples danced outward from the myriad of rocks tossed upon its tainting waters. The ear-piercing noise, the smoke and smell, consumed my head and I knew that even the people here were merely fractured parts of this massive machine. Somehow the creative and imaginative force behind these facades seemed twisted, distorted, and it was a daunting reminder of why I dread the big cities. It drew my spirit into its powerful grip, and it crushed my profound connection. The life within was completely sapped. In my weary state, I then felt its distinct burden heaved upon my shoulders as imprinted its lurid and debasing soul upon mine.

The following day we walked aimlessly around town just trying to get a "feel" and "pace" of this bustling city. The city of two million, however, actually feels small. A few skyscrapers surrounded by a run-down inner city and a few pleasant spots mixed in. Without question, the most impressive area of KL is Merdeka Square. The city hall building sits directly across from this square, displaying a distinct blend of Moorish and Victorian architecture with a 120-foot high clock tower rising from the center of the structure. In addition, with the grandest of KL's mosques, Masjid Jamek, and its prolific onion domes and minarets just behind and the skyscrapers of the city center rising prominently in the background, it all offers a surprisingly unique and dignified view. Architecturally, it's the best of KL and the flowing spirit of these places eased my drained soul.

The appearance of western influence, however, is painfully obvious; it's unmistakable and the people seem to embrace it, almost worship it. It's an eerie observation. There's a plethora of European and American banks and businesses located here not to mention the ubiquitous fast-food joints: McDonald's, Baskin-Robbins, KFC, Pizza Hut, Wendy's, Church's, and even a Dairy Queen. It has the feel of a western city with just a few hints of Malaysian culture and history imbedded. A Hindu mosque here and there, and a few buildings built in traditional style, but it's a city where its culture has been choked off for the western dollar. It's become westernized with only a facade of its past traditions and culture.

It's Bland Asia.

That night after dinner in the pleasant area of Little India, we roamed the many markets of KL. It's one of the more lively places in the city, and for the first time, I felt as if I was being touch by some vestige of the true Malaysia. It had a Turkish bazaar feel to it, bustling, loud and the air filled with intoxicating aromas. Still, it was not comparable to the markets of Indonesia, and the people were much like that in Malacca, cold, business-like, and disingenuous. Truly, the people are caught between a vision of western culture and their own traditions. They seem confused, lost...mired in their perceived desires of materialistic conveniences and the pleasures of western culture. It seems they have taken the worst of western culture and melded with their own traditions and it struck me as a loud airplane flying overhead whilst in the middle of a nature reserve. It's painfully evident that western influence will win, they've been exposed to it and their culture isn't as ingrained or solidified in the culture to withstand the assault. I wish the Australian from the dive in Tulamben could be here with me right now. To see first-hand the unfettered influence of our culture, one in which these people have very little say or the will to change it, to fight it off. So, the virus that is currently destroying our essence as Americans is imposed on them and it now ravages their culture as well. The people of Malaysia are hostages to western investment, and it’s a palpable reminder of "what" we are all becoming as human beings.

***************

After a couple of relaxing days amongst the prodigious tea plantations of the Cameron Highlands in the center of the Malay Peninsula, we pushed onward to the last of our planned destinations in Malaysia, the island of Penang. Penang is an island off the northwestern coast of Malaysia, and is the oldest British settlement in all of Malaysia. After getting organized in Penang's main city of Georgetown, we took to the streets. Penang, or the city of Georgetown in particular, is a dirty, grotty old Chinese City. It glows in personality. It has a distinct character and composition we had yet to experience in Malaysia. Although it's one of the most frequented tourist spots in the country, it's surprisingly real. Georgetown is a host of colorful confusion. It tastes authentic. A rickshaw whisked us through its winding, twisting streets, past its crusty old colonial shops, houses and restaurants through narrow alleys of Chinese heritage, and we were unavoidably touched by its old-fashioned and genuine inhabitants. It was an experience full of lusty flavor. One thing I am learning is to just be, to heed the way of the "Tao," that is, to just sit back and savor.

I did in Penang.

The following day we rented a motorbike with Bren reading the map on the back as I drove, we scurried all over the island. We caroused around the beaches, the markets, the temples, the parks and the small towns. We even toured the Kek Lok Si, the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia, where I couldn't help but think once again of the monk from Tioman. As I walked through the imposing structure and the room with a thousand Buddhas encircling the room, I couldn't help but think of how an individual who occupies a mere flash in the journey of your life can contribute so significantly to it.

It hit me profoundly as I drove, however, just how many live on this small island, with well over half a million people. I couldn't help but notice and think about the incredible population explosion that has occurred in countries around the world and here in Southeast Asia in particular. It's rampant. Truly, it's mind-boggling just how many people live on this planet, and it keeps growing virtually unabated. This is especially so in third-world countries, and paradoxically, it's the countries with the least resources having the greatest explosion in population. It deeply disturbing to walk the streets of these countries and even here in Malaysia, where the economy is doing relatively well, and witness the obscene numbers who live in utter poverty and don't have enough to eat. It was especially evident in the rural areas of Indonesia, and I know we'll see worse in Nepal and India. It's not something I look forward to witnessing.

What's even more distressing is that here in Malaysia the government has expressly encouraged growth...proliferate, oh joy, proliferate. In fact, the government has a plan to increase the population of Malaysia 350% by the year 2020, from 20 million presently to 70 million. This "20/20" plan is an active crusade for the Malaysian people. I have to wonder, however, about the sanity of the leaders of this country. The underlying rationale seems to be that with more people they can generate more to contribute to the economy and development. I can't help but think that the policy is only serving to keep the cheap labor force here by increasing the population. If the population remains the same or grows slightly, naturally as the economy continues to grow it will raise the standard of living for all, and therein lays the dilemma. Because as their standard of living increases, the desire for more will also, and it will naturally take them out of the "cheap" labor regime they now possess. And this country cannot survive economically as it does presently without the severe foreign investment. It just can't survive. I wonder if this is a short-term fix to keep the cheap labor here while completely ignoring the people themselves, and disguising it all under the umbrella of "moving Malaysia toward a developed nation."

What's remarkably striking about this policy, and even more so in the third-world countries, is that none of these countries possess the resources to curb this proliferation of population. It is now getting to the point where it's clearly foreseeable that this will become the rest of the developed nations' problem; in essence, America’s problem. If it continues, in just a few short years, it will take a grave toll on the world. On some humanitarian level, it already has entered this realm. It's something we as a nation must stop and take a long, stern look at, as we will surely be forced as a nation to deal with this problem in the future. It's a problem we need to face head on, and face it now.

In reality, it is our problem. Many will vehemently dispute this, but to me these are the facts. We are the only viable solution to this escalating problem, as we have the resources, individually and collectively. What I don't think we understand yet, is that what now appears to be a simple offer of humanitarian aid is merely the vestiges of such, because sooner or later it will most assuredly significantly impact our nation and our lives. We will soon see first-hand that the occurrences on this side of the globe can no longer be isolated. What happens here, on the other side of the globe, will still impact America. It's important to realize that as we move toward this "global economy," a term used in such glowing terms, that there is a backlash to the fire. That is, what happens to others in this "global economy" will happen to us, and the more we have invested to this end, the more significant the impact. We can no longer afford to be isolationists, and we must understand that additional burdens will arise along with the natural benefits of this "global economy."

If we allow the over-population problem to reach this "boiling" point, then we've already lost the battle. We would only have two choices: one, give the aid and devote the resources to try and curb the problem (a process through which actually addressing the problem inevitably seems to fall through the cracks), or turn our backs on them and ignore them, which as we will soon witness will cause harm to us economically. Either way, it becomes a bitter pill to swallow, but the real question is who's going to swallow it, my generation or my child's.

Indeed, are we only citizens of United States of America, or are we citizens of the world as well? This is the question that has plagued me since Bali and nothing brings it closer to my heart than wandering this small island of Penang. What is our responsibility? Without question, we as a nation will have many difficult choices such as this in the near future; decisions that will affect not only us and our future generations, but such serious decisions that it will significantly impact the planet. We must realize this and each citizen must take note of the gravity of the situation. As a nation of professed greatness, the renowned leader of the world, these are precisely the situations in which we must distinguish ourselves, innovate and create solutions for the rest of the world. We must be the leader, be the example. In future generations, these types of problems and how we choose to deal with them will ultimately determine the character of America, and the legacy of its people. It will forever forge the essence of our collective being. We must also realize this. On some level of significance, the evolution of humanity actually depends on my generation, our vision, innovation, and passion. In order to build "faith" individually, we need others to accept responsibility beyond their own personal stake, and so the same holds for nations. We can create "faith" throughout the countries of the world, a bond that unites us all. And, most importantly, we must also realize that this is our destiny, this is the inescapable destiny of the United States of America.

The question that lingers, therefore, that indeed hangs ominously above us like a dark rain cloud waiting to unleash its fury, is whether the character of the American people is presently strong enough to step up and absorb the responsibility for not only themselves but for the plight of the entire planet. Are we going to position ourselves to be the catalyst by establishing this precious "faith" within our existence, are we going to selflessly reach out to the world? More poignantly, are we as a nation going to sacrifice and lead, or are we going to turn our backs for the materialistic collective of the nation? Are we going to offer assistance for the betterment of humanity without the proverbial hand out for something in return; or rather, are we, as we have in the past, going to take advantage of them as we move toward this "global economy?" You see, as we move toward this "global economy" there will be "big winners" and just as many, "big losers." Are we as a nation, one who will most assuredly be one of the "big winners" (at least in the short-run), going to give back freely to the others or are we going to be one of the Steinbrenner's of the globe. It takes a united nation, one of strong will and proud character to make this decision of vision and sacrifice. Are we going to be a nation who accepts the obvious responsibility that stares us in the face or one who shirks it with rationalized theories that only serve to preserve our precious possessions? I don't know which path we will choose but I do know these are issues that history (or even some higher entity) will inevitably judge us by. Indeed, these are issues, which we should judge our selves by.

Simply put, are we going to create a nation, one in which our children can be proud, proud of the decisions we made, the path we forged, and the passion required to sustain the struggle? Or are we going to cower in the face of the obvious, even inevitable, responsibilities?

Once again, the choice sits squarely on our collective shoulders.

After returning the motorbike, we walked passed a man slouching in the corner against a wall of a small narrow alley. His body was frail and limp, his legs were mere stumps, the rough edges of his mouth where covered with white film from being hungry, and he was miserably covered in dried blood and dirt. His hand shook uncontrollably as I deposited a few coins into his outstretched empty bowl. As I turned away, Bren moved to my side and placed her head softly on my chest and whispered, "I'm so scared...this place, this world, where are we going? Really, where are we going?"

"Bri," she softly stated mired in a sorrowful daze, "that man, how can someone, anyone live like that? My God, sometimes this world is such a cruel and scary place, and you know, it seems that we are making it even worse..."

As those provocative words rang from her mouth, I turned back to the lifeless man who had realized that we had deposited some money in his bowl. He gave me a toothless smile and a painful wave. I quickly turned away, afraid, ashamed, asphyxiated by the cloud of choking materialistic desires within me. The Grand Canyon stood again in my mind’s eye, my reflection, and it hurt to gaze upon this humanity. Bren was correct, and this place, this pattern, was raising its head into my life yet again. My heart was supposed to hurt, I was supposed to shed a tear, and I was made to suffer. Yet, I turned my back and kept walking, I grabbed Bren’s hand to feel secure and I just kept walking.

***************

As we sat on a bus departing the lusty Penang for Thailand, I realized that Peninsular Malaysia may be the economic heartbeat of the country but its soul lies elsewhere. It has been a disappointment. There are far more questions here than answers. Its path having been chosen by others, its destiny controlled by the hands of the more developed, and even its own policy for change seems to flow directly into those controlling nations. The fate of this country is mired in the strangling hands of others; sadly, the people only seek to embrace it. They are blinded by their vision of western culture; blinded by their perception of western culture and all that it offers. They see only the good.

Ironically, the country of Malaysia reminds me of my life before this trip...one where I was being dragged by the leash of "Life." My time spent working for others, their ambitions, their objectives and their goals, and it all dictated by what I was taught to want and desire. My destiny was controlled; my fate virtually predestined, and I was told emphatically to blindly embrace it all. I was programmed to be an economic piece of the puzzle, to be a machine in a human world. When I refused to ingratiate this indelicate aspect into my being, I was ostracized and my cancerous thoughts isolated. With the casual wave of a hand, I was dismissed. I now leave Malaysia with the distinct feeling that I want the people of this country to rise up and find themselves. I realize only now as I sit on this overcrowded, hot, foul-smelling bus for Thailand, that is precisely what I did, that's what this trip is for me...it's been a fight for my life. To rise up and begin the "real" journey of life, and yes, to discover and embrace my "mission" here in this realm.

I know as I reflect on the 65 year-old Australian women, who still has yet see the Pinnacles Desert only five hours away; having discovered a living declaration of spiritual faith in Indonesia; having been touched by the internal contentment of the islanders in Fiji and the Cooks; and having been taught by a master some of the lessons of underlying pattern of the universe, I know now that I'm not crazy. I know that I fought the fight, fought the fight for my life and I've won. I've done it, I have seized control, and for the first time, I can honestly say that my life is mine. Now that I am in control of my life, I realize that these events and experiences are now helping to shape and mold me as the person I desire to be. And somehow and in some way, the "underlying pattern" is showing me the way.

It's more than just taking control of my life, for I did that when I finally stood up and initially embarked on this journey, but now I am bearing the fruits of it. I feel as if my body is going to explode, I'm going to float up through the ceiling of the bus to the clouds above. Goose bumps cover my skin, tears swell from the corners of my eyes, my palms sweetly sweat and my heart thumps and pounds. I am free. I am free to just be, to discover who I am, and ultimately, to become all I was meant to be. Within this grand liberation, the "pattern" of my true journey is subtly emerging, and even though I’ve yet to see face of this beast within me, it is appearing with regularity and I can finally meet it head-on. I can confront that which has controlled me, that which makes me destroy, that which makes me less in this human condition than I truly am. Yes, I am more than my physical body, and now I understand that I must confront that physical being from within to discover the purer elements of my self, my soul.

And this, I know, is just the beginning...

Copyright © 1999 PbFisher. All rights reserved.