"I like America very much," the smallish yet bold, Thai man excitedly said to me as he turned around in his seat on the bus. He was a middle-aged man; he seemed tender, almost innocent, as a smile spread across the breadth of his tiny face.

"Thank you," I said and after a brief pause, "but why do you feel that way?"

"America the best!" he said boldly, "it very powerful."

Bren looked at me with a brief smile.

"America rule the world," he said eyes glittering, his yellow, stained teeth adorning his smile, "Yes, I like America."

"Okay, okay, enough, I get it, you like America," I was thinking to myself.

"Where you live in America?" he continued the inquiry.

"We're from Pittsburgh."

"Oh," he said shaking his head up and down, "I like Pittsburgh very much."

"Have you heard of Pittsburgh?" Bren incredulously asked.

"I like Pittsburgh very much," he repeated, "if in America, I like."

He was extremely gregarious, and he was clearly pushing to know us better, yet it seemed almost out of character for him. Clearly, something deeper drove him.

"America the beautiful, America the beautiful," he began mumbling.

"Where do they come up with this stuff," Bren whispered to me with a chuckle.

"What are your names?" he then asked in between chords of "America the beautiful."

"Brian and Brenda."

"Oh, Brian and Brenda, Brian and Brenda. Very funny," he said with a roar of laughter that filled the small bus.

"Brian and Brenda, my new American friends, very good. I like you very much."

"Do you like us because we are Americans or as people?" I asked with a bit of curiosity.

"Oh, because you Americans. I like America."

"Well, at least you're honest," I said as the three of us broke out in laughter, although he didn't seem so sure exactly what he was laughing about.

"I own restaurant in Krabi, you come, you come my new American friends?" he asked as he bounced lightly in his seat with the rhythm of the bus. Bren gave me a stare of indecision, neither of us knew how to answer the intrepid Thai man. It was one of those difficult moments we encounter during traveling, one that seems innocuous enough and yet harbors so much potential harm. Some people will genuinely befriend you, while unfortunately others merely do so to get something from you, or as part of something even more venal. We just don't know, and it puts us in a quandary because naturally one desperately wants to accept every invitation, every sign of friendship, every offer, but we also know that we can't. In addition, we don't want to offend or discourage an innocent soul, one who is just trying to show us his culture and his people. It's a pure judgment call, and it becomes one of the more trying aspects of traveling, especially since it occurs with such frequency. It has also become infinitely more difficult since we've already had this tactic of "friendliness" used against us in the theft of our bags in Bali, and possibly in Yeh Sanih. It's always in the back of our minds now; forever skeptical, forever stained.

"We are gracious of your invitation, but we must figure out where we are going to stay first; can we let you know later?" I asked.

"Of course, my friends."

After he turned around in his seat, I immediately turned to Bren, "What d'ya think?"

"I don't know. I'm leaning against it. As much as we enjoy the Thai food--"

"He's just an old man who owns a restaurant, what's he going to do?"

"Well, maybe he doesn't really own a restaurant," Bren said with a distinct ring of skepticism.

"And maybe when we get off the bus he’ll have a gang of men waiting for the foreigners he befriended on the bus, so they can steal all their stuff," I said in jest.

"Exactly! Bri, this is serious. C’mon, we've already been ripped off twice, and he does seem a bit shady...with all that America the beautiful stuff."

"I know. I know, but I really think he's sincere; he's just being friendly."

"Yeah, but is it a chance we really want to take?"

"I think so. Honestly. I am skeptical now as well, but I just don't think that we can go through life forever brushing people away because of a couple of incidents. We must have faith in people, faith in the good. Otherwise, we'll be assured of coming out the loser," I said and after a slight pause, "and although it may be more difficult now after those incidents, it's probably also more important that we do have the faith. Yes, for our own growth."

"Oh, well look who's talking about having faith, isn't that interesting..."

"I know...but I've been shown, we both have been shown, just how important it is that we have it, especially when the chips are down. It's easy to have faith when you have nothing to lose!"

"How is it that you're always convincing me...just like in Vegas when you got me to throw down that hundred bucks?"

"We won didn't we?"

"Yeah, but we could have lost it just as easily."

"Sure, we could have lost, and we could have our bags stolen too, or even worse. But then think of all the people we've already met that if we didn't reach out we wouldn't have ever such enriching experiences: The monk, Eebu, Jay and Lisa, Aponu...we have to let the little white ball run its course and to have faith in it and you can only do that by taking risk," I offered with a convincing smile.

"Remember the trek in the Cooks, Bri; remember getting caught in that awful mess?"

"Yeah, but that was the result of our ignorance, our pretension, not a lack of faith. This is different."

"I know that's all true; it's just hard to pull the trigger."

"If you don’t trust one, then you’ll have doubts about the next person who befriends us, and the next, and soon, we will have created a circle of doubt we can’t escape from. We’ll lose faith. But anyway, let's do it this way...we'll get directions to his place and we'll go to the hostel and drop our bags off then we'll go to his restaurant without any valuables, all without telling him where we are staying. That will at least eliminate some of the risk. How's that sound?"

"Okay, I know it's something we should do...oh," she said with a deep sigh, "I just hate this...why does it have to be so hard to trust!"

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

We stood just inside the entrance as all eyes in the restaurant gleaned toward us. We were the only foreigners, and from their looks, the only ones they'd seen in awhile. I felt like I was arbitrarily thrown into a movie, and we even as the actors didn’t know the ending. I felt captive to the drama, almost as if it was unfolding without me. The long, arduous day of travel into Thailand, the emotional decision to trust this guy, and now the open stares, we looked out of place, and indeed we felt out of place.

In our discomfort, we had just decided to leave when from the back of the restaurant sprung the old man.

"You are here!" he yelled. Then, he screamed something in Thai into the back and he scampered through the restaurant toward us.

"Ah, my friends, you have come," he said with a genuine assuring smile, "you sit here, my best table."

"That's okay, we'll take a regular one," I offered.

"No, no, you must take this one," he said determined, with an insistent smile. We sat down at the square table by the window of the small establishment. Our host then sped away and almost as quickly returned with two unopened bottles on a tray, with a smile swept across the breadth of his face, "Coca-Cola, you like, very American."

Bren and I chuckled, "Yes, we like it very much."

He placed them on the table, popped the caps, and once again dashed into the back.

"Did you see his face when he brought those Cokes out?" I said leaning into Bren.

"Yeah, poor little guy was so thrilled. It just broke my heart. I can't believe I ever thought ill of him."

"Well, the lesson learned here is we must keep on trusting, no matter how difficult it seems."

"Well, seeing that old man's face convinced me!"

He returned and instead of giving us menus, he led us into the kitchen.

"You choose, you choose!" he said as he rocked excitedly back and forth on his toes. We looked over the food and picked what we thought that we'd like. As excited as he was, with the prospect of our own personalized Thai meal, we were probably more so.

As we finished our delicious meals with our friend watching every indelible bite, we asked if he and his wife would join us. He immediately jumped up and ran into the back where his wife emerged with him only moments later. They sat down with us.

"You like, you like?" he anxiously inquired.

"Oh yes, excellent," Bren said returning his smile, "the best food we've had on the trip."

It was no lie.

"Oh, the best!" he returned, and then presumably told his wife in Thai because she then bowed her head to us—but as far as we knew he could have said, "the poison should hit them any minute now..."

Then, he suddenly started back up again as if we never left the bus, "I like America very much."

"Geez, there's no quit in him is there," I thought to myself.

"What is it exactly that you like about America, do you know?" I then asked.

"Oh yes, America has no problems, America perfect. I like very much American movies."

We had to halfheartedly laugh about his perception of the United States, especially considering my personal struggle with America. It was another ironic moment, much like the cuckoo clock striking just above me in the old woman’s house in Australia, one in which all sense of time is engulfed and the movement of everything around you slows.

"Well it's not quite like that actually...and we love American movies too," I returned.

We continued discussing America and filled in parts of their dream, their vision of America. As Bren and I were mere extensions of this dream, we embraced their vision of America as the land of utopia, the perfect place. This perception, actually, is a common one. It seems that every one who has never visited America, believes that either the country has no problems or it’s just one big problem. However, one thing is certain, everybody has a fervid opinion on the United States of America.

After giving our sincere thanks and saying our good-byes, we departed the restaurant beginning the long walk back to our hotel. Bren looked up pensively at the cloudy night sky and said, "Ya know, it's amazing just how many people in this part of the world think so highly of America. That it has no problems, I mean. I wonder if they really knew, really knew about America's problems, if they'd consider them big problems?"

"I don't think they would understand the problems. They probably couldn't relate to them."

"Yeah. It's shocking really, Bri. They seem so innocent, and they look up to America so much. Well, you know that's why he wanted us to come eat at his restaurant, because we were Americans. I just can't believe how much they looked up to us," Bren said completely consumed in thought, "it hits home just how much we need to be setting an example as Americans."

I twisted quickly toward her and stared intensely.

"What? I think I'm hearing things, because that sounds like something I would say."

"Well, don't get a big head about it," she said shoving me as we walked along the dark street back to our hotel, "but, seriously, I just felt such a responsibility sitting in that restaurant. Different than anything I've ever felt before. Did you feel it?"

"I felt it. In a round-a-bout way I think you have the answer to your own question, the one about how they would feel about our problems. They wouldn't see them, because they wouldn't want to. They want something to look up to, right or wrong, the responsibility's been thrown on us. That's why it was easier just to fulfill their vision."

"Like a big brother, I guess."

"Exactly."

"I've got enough little brothers," Bren said mockingly, "I'm sure that's the way many would feel at home!"

"You're probably right there."

"But if the people at home, at least our friends and relatives, could feel what I felt today...such kind people, good people, who look up to us, who rely on us, I really think they'd feel different. I really do. I think they’d understand."

She drifted off in serious thought and after a short pause, "Yeah, I really think they would."

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

That night, Mary came to me in a vision, a dream, I didn’t know, something held me in trance while my body was gripped by sleep. She stood before me in a gown of pure white and upon her outstretched arm sat parrot-like an owl. As Mary looked down upon this creature with soft compassion, as its yellow, piercing eyes coldly stared into mine its gaze was uncompromising and seemingly couldn’t be broken. I looked down passed my naked and frail body to see my legs in shackles, bound together. Behind me, all around me, I was engulfed in a palpable darkness, which forced itself upon me and I felt distinctly its crushing weight upon my skin. I glanced upward and locked pupils with the owl yet again and Mary redirected her compassionate smile to me. She floated gracefully over to me, lifted the owl from her arm and placed it upon my shoulder, and whispered with a smile, "I have faith. I have faith in you, Brian, and faith that this is the right thing to do...just let it takes its course." She stood upon her toes, kissed my sullied forehead and with this gift of light the shackles vanished.

Still mesmerized by this perplexing dream, I woke to a gray, dreary day. It's monsoon season and good weather isn’t expected. In fact, because of the monsoon it's been difficult deciding which parts of Thailand we should visit. As we stood on the pier waiting for a boat to take us to Phra Nang ("Pra-nong"), with the monsoon we still weren't sure that it would be a destination worth the stop. It was our typical Modus Operandi, as I wanted to take the chance, Bren didn't. It's one of the few times we've been split on places to spend our time. We compromised, and decided to give it a couple days and if it continued to rain, we’d then go to the east side of the peninsula where the monsoon has less impact. The small peninsula of Phra Nang can only be reached by boat. So, after negotiating on the fare, we waded out into the water with our packs and climbed into the "long-tail" boat. It's a small wooden framed boat with the propeller mounted at the end of ten-foot metal pole attached to the engine. The unit is mounted on gimbals, which allow it to swivel for easy maneuverability and allow the prop to be instantly withdrawn from the water to adjust the speed. Although it's not the most stable of floating crafts, its main asset is pure speed. It flies.

We were only ten minutes into the trip when lightning sprayed through the dark clouds, which hung portentously over the limestone cliffs directly ahead of us. I turned to the driver. He said nothing, his eyes focused on the sea beyond. In the next instant, the wind began whipping, causing the boat to rock in the water. The horizon was now black and we were driving straight into it.

"I don't like this at all, Bri."

"I know," I said as I turned around to the driver again and asked, "Do you think we should turn back?"

"We be okay," he said sternly.

This wasn't a good situation. He wanted the money for his fare, he needed the money for his fare, and this approaching storm wasn't going to stop him. He wasn't turning back, and yet I began to think that we shouldn't continue onward.

The brackish water of the inlet began to rise and swell, and waves were being created where none were before.

"I don't want to go through this again...dammit, Bri, we're not doing this again. Fiji was enough!" Bren said pulling out our raincoats from the packs, "Really, I don't think these things are very stable."

She was clearly unsettled, her eyes tightened and ripples clearly marked her forehead.

I turned back around to the driver, "Let's go back!"

"No go back. Too far."

"Listen--" I began to bark when it hit.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Bren screamed as water began to pummel us from every direction. The wind ripped over the sea, and a swirling blanket of rain immediately surrounded us. Our thin boat rocked wildly from side to side, taking in water on each side with each devastating swing.

"Bri, I think we're going to tip...what are we going to do?" she shrieked horrified.

Her eyes were wide with sheer terror; she was frantic.

I turned around once again, and I could only see a faint outline of our driver through the dense wall of rain, yet he was only a couple feet away. The rain pounded on the boat, the sea, and us; it rang out, and we could hear nothing but the sound of this torrential downpour. It was overwhelming, the sound of fury, this wailing rain.

"Stop the boat!" I began yelling, "Stop, Stop!"

"Look how much water is in here, oh my God!" Bren cried out.

I looked down to the floor, where a half-foot of water had accumulated already.

"We going to tip, we're going to go over!" Bren was still screaming.

The rain pounded, the wind whipped, the waves roared. Engulfed in blackness now, thunder cracked just above us. It was a loud, confusing sense of sheer madness and we were immersed within its grip.

"Turn the boat toward the waves, toward the waves," I was blaring back to our driver through the rain.

Still, he did nothing.

"We're going to tip, we're taking on too much water!" Bren yelled to me, "Bri, I’m really getting scared."

"Hey, hey," I yelled moving on my knees to the driver at the back of the boat, "we must go into the waves," I was saying as a wave crashed into the side and flung me through the air landing against the wall of the boat.

"Bri, Bri, are you okay?" Bren was screaming in shrilled panic.

"Yeah," I yelled back as the driver finally turned us into the cresting, crashing waves. I crawled back through the water to Bren as we bounced high now over the waves, but less water was coming over the sides. It was obvious we would have sunk in a matter of minutes if we hadn't changed our position.

"I think we should take out what's important," Bren yelled as she unzipped her pack and began taking out objects and stuffing them into her rain jacket, "if we go down..."

"We won't be able to save our packs..." she was trying to say through the driving water.

"They'll be too heavy..."

"Let's try and get some of this stuff out..."

"Don't take too much though, without life jackets, we'll be pretty heavy in the water..." I yelled back.

I fought the rain and wind as I stuffed my pockets with our plane tickets, passports, money and a few of our personal belongings. I tied our sandals to my jacket, and strapped the camera around me under my jacket. We were prepared, but still we were helpless in the hands of fate. Yet again.

We grabbed our ball caps from the packs and desperately began to bail from the nearly foot of water lining the bottom. With the waves swatting us around and the distinct fear of being flung overboard, we cradled on our knees in the water and bailed. No one said a word, just the sound of rain ringing through the air as we bailed. I couldn’t think of anything but bailing, and getting the water out. But I wasn’t panicked, in fact I felt strangely comfortable.

However, as quickly as the storm had come, it was gone. It stopped almost as if someone had pulled a switch. And although the boat contained well over a foot of water, we had survived.

I sat down in the bed of the boat with my back against the edge, exhausted, relieved. Bren did the same across from me. We looked at each other and then at our packs sunk in the water, and began to laugh. We roared with the relief of laughter as the driver took the cue and did the same.

"What more could happen to us?" Bren said with a satirical chuckle.

I smiled back, and began to say, "Wait. Don't even answer that," and after a reflective pause she continued, "I think we're done with boats for a while."

Our driver took us the remainder of the way dropping us off in front of a restaurant on the beach, where eyes immediately turned to us. We stood in the sand, our clothes drenched, hair disheveled, raincoats bulging with our belongings, sandals tied to our waists, and water still gushing from our packs. I held on to the pole of the restaurant and took off my boot, and poured the water out.

"My God, what bloody happened to you two?" I guy in the corner of the restaurant asked.

"We got caught in that storm that just passed through."

"In a long-tail...you are nuts."

"Yeah, tell me about it...but we didn’t have much of a choice in the matter," Bren interjected.

"That storm was horrific, we don't see anything like that in England!" he said.

"Unfortunately, we’re kinda getting used to them," I said looking at Bren as I rolled my eyes.

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

We spent the remainder of the day scattering our clothes around the bungalow room to let them air dry. Surprisingly, everything survived intact and remained in working order. Our third-story bungalow is composed of entirely dark wood giving it an oppressive feel, and with merely a single light bulb in the center it seemed overtly dark. Yet, with a ceiling fan, a private bath, and two decks which offer a spectacular view of the towering limestone rock formations all around us, and at six dollars a night it's a pleasant remind of just how far we truly are from America.

That night while Bren crashed, I moved out onto the deck and watched the rain as it began to fall again. I stared at the streams of water falling from the deck roof, and I thought that only hours earlier I was caught in perhaps the storm of my life, stranded in an unstable boat that was flooding with each passing moment. It provided for only the second time in my life, a sense of my mortality. Not so much because we were that close to death, but more as a result of our driver's sheer indifference to our plight, our safety. He didn't know what to do, and yet, he didn't seem the least bit concerned. I have noticed throughout Indonesia and Malaysia, and now Thailand, a blatant lack of concern for safety, and it was never so discernible as in that boat ride.

It's not, however, that I believe the people of these countries value human life less than we do as Americans. It strikes me that they value their own life just as much. Rather, I think it's that they don't take responsibility for another's life the way we do in the States. I know if that boat had tipped, we were on our own. As our driver, he felt absolutely no responsibility for us. None. Strikingly, it doesn't really bother me. Even thinking as an attorney it doesn't bother me, where if this occurred in the States lawsuits would be flying...no life jackets, the negligence of a boat operator driving directly into a fierce storm endangering our lives, operating a boat without competence (proper instruction or knowledge), and so on.

More profoundly, the oppressive feeling of helplessness didn't bother me as it had in Fiji. I was overwhelmed in Fiji. This time, however, I had some basic semblance of faith. I felt the dream with Mary in me, it cradled me in its arms and soothed my aching body, and yet I still didn’t understand its meaning. However, with this semblance of faith, the helplessness just seemed to fade away, and even more, I wasn't looking to blame anyone else for our predicament, as I know I surely would have before. It's just the way things are here, I accepted it, and with the faith I almost reveled in it. I didn't think about this faith, it was just there. I also know that I embraced the "underlying pattern of the universe"; I grew comfortable with accepting the "Way." I didn't struggle against its will, for once in my life, I didn't attempt to seize control. Instead, I simply held the outstretched hand of fate. I was learning that even when its seemingly illogical, sometimes you have to just trust in the roulette’s white ball. Sometimes, you just had to trust in the pattern of the universe. In Fiji, I had looked upward, to the Heavens, to God, for a semblance of faith; however, here in the same predicament I looked within and trusted. The pattern was clear and it was indisputably illustrating where to search, where to find the initial whispers of faith. Once again, I could almost hear our indelible monk whispering, "Now, do you see, do you sense, do you understand..." and for the first time, I could actually say that I did.

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

Another balmy, gloomy day and the monsoon was making its powerful presence felt and heard. We decided to try the small hike down into one of the limestone mountains to a lagoon that sits placidly at the bottom. It's beginning to strike Bren and I profoundly how things keep repeating themselves on this trip; first, another boat ride through a torrential storm and now a trek over another mountain of slippery mud and roots. This time, however, we had a choice. The owner of our bungalows had informed us, "It is not wise to climb to the lagoon during the monsoon, too dangerous."

"I don't want to do it, Bri; let's just sit around and relax the day away," Bren then said to me.

"C'mon, we didn't come half-way around the world to Thailand, to just sit on the beach or in a bungalow the entire time."

"I'm not doing it. Go ahead, take the camera, get some pictures and I'll see it when we return home. Yeah, that sounds like fun, gives me something to look forward to when the trip's all over."

"Bren, remember the Pemberton Tree?"

"Yeah," Bren said and then paused thinking, "Oh no, don't start that, you're not doing that to me. I'm just not up for it, Bri."

"The Pemberton Tree," I repeated.

"I know, I know I came down. I know," she said burdened with thought, "but I did come after you in face of the sharks. I confronted my fear then."

"I'm not saying another word, it's your choice."

"This isn't fair, damn you, you know I was so disappointed in myself over that...it just isn't fair using that now."

She paused. She looked up to the sky, let out a deep sigh and barked, "Okay you lawyering son-of-bitch, let's do it...fine, we’ll get crazy, ‘cause that’s what this is. Let’s go!"

We crawled our way up through the mud straight up to the top of the small mountain, relying as in the Cooks on the roots to prevent us from sliding right back down again. We walked through the lush, yet tame, jungle until we came to a break in the underbrush and trees. As we approached the cliff's edge, the jungle opened to a spectacular view of the entire Phra Nang peninsula. A thousand feet above, we could see the towering cliffs of limestone surrounding the peninsula, and the dense thicket of palm trees stretching out to the deep green sea between the two beaches on either side.

We continued onward to the cliff's edge inside the mountain as it began to rain once again and the jungle rumbled from its sleep as it reached out its branches to absorb this falling essence. We climbed the rugged rock face, which drew blood from our knees; but we pushed downward into the blackness, down into the cavernous hole in the limestone. After forty-five harrowing minutes, we finally reached the bottom, where we approached a large crack in the rock where a bright light pierced through this veil of dampened jungle. We walked toward the light and through the threshold of enveloping rainforest, and it flung wide open into a cylinder of limestone stretching down from the top of the mountain to the circular lagoon before us. In fact, the canyon walls seemed to stretch up and into the clouds in the blue sky above. The pool of calm green water was a mirror reflection of the canyon walls and the trees lining its edge. Within this round idyllic vision, we were alone. We were alone within these layers of rock, this sparkling water, both of which drew its strength from the hole stretching into the heavens. I felt a piece of Oz swelling within me, a piece that I was a part of this place, this world, and even my thoughts were one with it all.

"Can you believe this place?" Bren cried out, her voice ringing up through the giant cylinder into the sky above.

"It's awesome!" I said as I threw my muddy boots to the side and began stripping off my sweat-soaked socks.

"It's like something out of a movie!"

I dove in. Bren followed, and we floated together in the middle looking up at the omnipresent light trickling down through the hole in the mountain. I peered observantly around the canyon walls, and the brilliant multi-colored walls of the Grand Canyon rose up before me in my mind’s eye. I turned to look down into the pool where I saw my reflection in this seemingly bottomless pool of water, and this divine eye gaze intently into mine. Startled, I quickly closed my eyes and waded within the cool, calming waters of the lagoon. This soul of earth was placid and serene—it felt like springtime, the flowers abloom, the budding leaves springing forth, and the lightly scented smell of freshness pervaded the warm air. However, there was an edge to it, for a piece was untamed, untouched and it seemed scrutinizing. I stretched out and yawned as this purity poured over my skin and the chill left my bones. I gazed upon those walls, I gazed upon them hard, for I saw within and I observed the thawing of my spirit. My soul was inspired from its silent cocoon, and I breathed in the organic from this dead lifeless being. As I reopened my eyes, the sky seemed richer, the jungle greener and the canyon walls seem to speak of its history, its evolution and how it came to have this sanctuary of innocence within its bowels. It was within this transcendent beauty that I felt Kaikoura’s dolphins again swimming briskly around me, and I gazed yet again upon this reflecting pool. This time I saw the regeneration of Mother Nature within me, and my spirit rejoiced with her invigorating touch. Her gaze was comforting and filled with compassion, and I immediately thought of the Tioman monk—for She knew me so well.

It was the golden carat of the adventure, and it was inspiring simply to be immersed in its profoundness, its eternal glow. We both sat pensive, lingering at the water's edge eating our snacks and sipping our water. Neither of us wanted to leave the tranquility, or to start the intense climb away from this awakened place. It gripped us both. We decided to stay, and we sat for hours, talking, reflecting on the trip, swimming and dancing in the shadows within the limestone mountain. What we didn’t find on the trek on Rarotonga, we had found here within the peace of Mother Nature, we were no longer at odds with her but rather purified by her butterfly-wings and glistening waters. Her green penetrating eyes gazed down upon us and washed away our sins and lifted us up through the hole in the canyon to the clouds above, for we had labored upon this quest, upward with the path of faith and with the purity of heart that was lacking on Rarotonga. We were free, unburdened by the past and enlightened by Her wisdom for now we were infinite extensions of the Mother herself.

We walked back into the darkness of the dense folds of the jungle and stood at the base of the cliff, our beginning. Bren's demon immediately crept out of the shadows and showed itself for the first time.

"I can't do it," she said looking up at the sheer cliff face before us.

"Yes, you can, and well, you have to!"

Bren fought it. She cringed with an aching look up at the cliff face. With her face locked in determination, she slowly reached up and took hold of the rock. Her struggle then ensued and the Pemberton Tree now stood prominently before her, the wind howling through the branches above. We were more than half way up the final of four tiers of the cliff face, when Bren saw clearly the face of this fiend.

"Oh God, my fingers are giving way, I can't hold the rope, it's too slippery," she cried out beneath me. "Pull yourself in close to the rock, grab it, and don't look down."

She did it and then, of course, she looked down.

"The rocks are too slippery, I think I'm going to fall," she said looking back up with a face filled with horror.

"Stop it, dammit!" I yelled down, "Calm down; think about climbing, one step at a time, think about reaching the top, envision yourself there; c'mon, now fight it, Bren, fight it."

Her face tightened, she bit her lip, as she moved her trembling arm up to the next inset of rock.

"Keep going baby, that's it," I yelled enthusiastically.

She hardened, and made it to the top surprisingly quickly, almost with ease.

I grabbed and hugged her limp body.

"I'm so proud of you, babe; I really am," I said gripping her even tighter.

She pushed away slightly, took a long, slow, look at me, her arms still shaking, and a sense of accomplishment lit up her face as she said, "I still feel like pushing you over the edge for making me do that!"

The monsoon went into hiding and the weather has suddenly become clear, warm, and sunny. So, we hit the beaches. The opulent green water gently rolling onto a soft bed of white sand all beset by the striking limestone cliffs, undoubtedly made for one of the most picturesque places in the world. Captured by the spell of this place, this roaming eye from the divine, we decided to stay and hang out for a few days longer. I was enraptured not only by the transcendental beauty but by the inner call of my pre-Adamic innocence. Somehow, this place was a cosmic window into a dimension devoid of the physical, of the darkness that so consumes my being at times. I thought back to Penang, and the old lifeless man lying on the street corner, and as if without control, every detail of his face flashed through my mind. He stood before me now still dressed in rags, but fully erect, confident, and as he smiled to me his eyes lit up with a life I’ve rarely seen. He was life, he was the light and it came from this, the poorest, the most meager of God’s creations, and it was coming through this medium, from the soul in earth. I smiled to myself, I cried to myself, and within this painful dichotomy I looked out at Bren sprightly swimming in the green water and I knew why we had decided to stay in this place just a few days longer.

Phra Nang is the rock-climbing mecca, and people come from all around the world to climb here. So, we took up rock-climbing, and embarked upon a full-day climb with an instructor. Both of us thoroughly enjoyed our exhilarating traverse up the cliff face. Surprisingly, Bren was thrilled with the experience, and even wanted to learn more when we get home. Yet, with every experience of good, it always seems something bad is not far behind, as we collapsed into the chairs on the deck of our bungalow, already stiff and sore. Every bone in my body ached. As we sat together, hand in hand, however, I couldn't get my mind off Bren. Our trek to the lagoon undoubtedly had a profound impact, for she had also gazed upon the enchanting waters. Our experiences had so far been the same but different, a single trip together and yet our experiences, our perceptions of the same journey were still so amazingly different. We took the same journey but our experiences were different, even opposed. But this moment, I realized we had experienced the same, we were one in that lagoon, we were affected by the same cosmic soul, for the "pattern" had spoken to us both. She had boldly taken her first step up the Pemberton Tree and pushed beyond the point that broke her the previous time. She fought and grappled with every piece of herself, she had looked upon the Canyon’s walls and saw the river flowing through it. We were the same in that moment, and it had inspired her to greater heights, in her intensified "awareness" she had come out on top. It was a test of her fortitude; she made the choice and fervently pursued it. She inhaled the life of her fear, and with the compassionate eyes of Mother Nature gazing down upon her, she exhaled pure conviction, a new belief in herself. Now, with every breath she'll exude this belief, this confidence. I turned and looked at her profile, her eyes gazing at the stars of the night sky, the same sky that held so many answers for me and I knew that she discovered more about herself today climbing the wall of limestone and in the lagoon, than she has at any other point in the trip, and quite possibly, at any other point in her entire life.

And in this inner "struggle," we were pure, innocent and bound in a mystical fusion with all that existed around us, and in it, we were one.

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

We sadly departed from the gorgeous green sea of Phra Nang after a day of relaxing our aching, sore bodies on the shores of its invigorating waters. After being assured no rain was on the horizon, we took a "long-tail" back to Krabi, and following breakfast we jumped on a bus for a four-hour ride to Surat Thani on the east coast. We arrived in the late afternoon and after examining our options in getting to Ko Tao, a small island off the east coast, we decided to take a train to Chumpon, then an overnight boat to the island. So, our journey to Ko Tao included the "long-tail" back to Krabi, the four-hour bus ride, five-hours by train, and an overnight ferry. Naturally, nothing about getting around Thailand is easy. Every decision is riddled with a major downside, and at times, it seems that we're never going to get where we need to.

Following the uncomfortable bus ride, we hustled into the station, purchased our tickets and ran for the train, which was scheduled to depart momentarily. We hopped on with relief, threw our backpacks onto the rack above our seats, and plopped down on the hard wooden bench for the ride to Chumpon. Fifteen minutes later however, we were still sitting idle. The people around us remained nonchalant, relaxed and even jocular. After an hour, I realized once again, that we'd made the wrong choice in modes of transportation. Maybe there just isn't a right choice. We sat in third class (the cheapest), without air-conditioning, without a fan, and the stifling late afternoon heat gripped us by the throat. The hot air seemed to lodge itself in my lungs and refused to leave. I longed for movement, any movement. The sun continued to beat through the window and onto our beleaguered bodies, the sweat complied and drifted down our backs and drenching our T-shirts, which then stuck to the wooden seat back. The aches and pains from rock climbing quickly gave way to the torment of sitting on the train's wooden bench. I was hot, sweaty, tired, hungry, and didn’t have a clue why the train wasn’t leaving; I was quickly growing impatient with each passing moment. I then inadvertently looked up at the old man sitting calmly across from me with his grandson, his eyes met mine and he instantly shed his grim, stoic face for a toothless, soft smile. We said a few words to each other in our respective languages, hopeful the other would understand, and surprisingly, on some level we did. It's not the words which bridged the communication gap, but our effort.

I stared at the old man. My eyes locked on his rigid forehead, the delicate wrinkles around his face, and the song of his life that played in his eyes; it all gave him a benevolent warmth. And I saw the Tioman Monk. It seemed that he’s following me, everywhere. He's constantly appearing, reminding me that at times like these when I feel I'm going to burst, I must look inward; and beneath the burning coals of irascibility, I must find my lost patience within the walls of my fastidious nature. He gently reminds me of the demoralizing "fall" on Rarotonga, and what grossly contorted desires our human condition is capable and just how deeply it can lead us astray. I then looked to the little boy next to him and a giant grin already lit up his face. As he stared at us I was reminded of Aponu. I returned the smile and it stuck me just how much a smile can brighten even the most distressing situation. I felt something between us, the old man, his grandson, Bren and me, and yet we couldn’t verbally communicate.

One of the more striking aspects of Southeast Asia, and Thailand in particular, is just how much patience is respected. Any sign to the contrary is not only seen as bad form, but a reflection of the inner person. It's conspicuously different from American culture. We have, as westerners, adopted a seemingly contrary position, one in which we become irate at the slightest sign of distress. We are imperious and impetuous with just about everything we do. Even more daunting is that we outwardly display our irritation and impatience. In fact, most of the time, by doing so we do receive the necessary action we desire. We are rewarded in our culture for our emotional outburst, for our coarse contempt for anything beyond our immediate control.

We are now two hours past our scheduled departure time, and still we are awaiting any kind of announcement. Yet not a soul is ranting or raving. In fact, not a single individual seems upset; instead, they are making the best of it: talking, eating, reading, sleeping, and spending more time with their children. It's not that they don't respond indignantly because they've been beaten into submission. Indeed, they are a bright and highly aware people. Rather, it’s their philosophy, their way of life—that patience perseveres. For me, our cultures have never been so distinguishable.

If our culture is truly concerned with assisting its citizens achieving a sense of "happiness," not only is our rash and impulsive behavior creating a nasty gyre of unhappiness, but it negates our "significance" as human beings. We are ill equipped to deal with the "suffering" within the human existence, and indeed our system, our culture, perpetuates it. Eastern cultures are much more able to deal with the daily "suffering" in achieving "happiness" than in the West. First, their culture incorporates the "suffering" into their daily existence; they accept the pain with the understanding that it will actually help them to move forward as human beings. Second, and most importantly, in the West we have inherently developed the mentality that we can fix everything, we can control it, and that money and possessions somehow release us from this worry, this suffering. But if the pain and suffering is part of the human existence, indeed crucial to personal growth, then haven’t we created a system that actually undermines the pursuit of our "significance" and possibly even our "purpose" here?

Yes, Western Culture has attempted to develop the mentality that life is actually "fair" in an innately "unfair" world. This conflict, by its very nature, creates a deception of the human spirit and possibly our "purpose" as human beings, and in this conflict we cannot, and never will, understand. It actually creates more confusion, more intolerance, fear, and anxiety—those corrosive toxins—that naturally make us feel less compassion, less human! The "suffering" we are so desperately trying to avoid becomes therefore an unseen element deposited within each of our souls. We are being molded solely by a societal construct rather than by the hands of creation, by the innate forces within us.

Ironically, it seems that with being American comes an implied guarantee, along with the assurances within the Bill of Rights, that we possess a fundamental right to "happiness." We’ve been sold, in the "American Dream," that within the system of contributing to the economic collective and individually living our lives on a level of self-gratification exists this "happiness." It’s ironic, for what we avoid in our lives—the suffering, is exactly what manifests, and this naturally inhibits any path toward this "happiness." We believe that we are in control of our lives, our society, our future, but instead we are being controlled by our programmed actions and desires—by creating a mechanical world built to sustain our material wealth. Ironically, by so desperately trying to control everything, by creating the illusion that life is fair when its inherently unfair, we have given up control. Yes, we are "Big Brother" after all, masked in dark clothing, unseen, and covertly lurking with each of our lives. We are the makers of this world where men become machines and machines men. We are the beasts that threaten not only our own "happiness," but the freedom of our souls and our ultimate purpose as human beings.

The train finally got moving three hours late, and we arrived exhausted in Chumpon fifteen minutes before midnight, the scheduled departure for the boat to Ko Tao. We absorbed the risk once again, and paid the taxi driver a bit more to get us to the ferry dock as quickly as possible. We made it with a minute to spare, purchased our tickets, and charged onto the boat. Bren and I immediately found a spot on the side of the old rickety, single deck boat. We unrolled our sleeping bags side by side, and as our boat rocked over the moonlit waves of the rolling sea, we drifted to sleep gazing up at the starry night sky.

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

I pried my crusty eyes open to a dark red sky surrounding the shadow of an island just ahead of us. Everyone else was still with not a sound of movement as I was the only traveler awake. I raised myself and rested on my elbows peering out onto the magical horizon and the turtle-shaped island of Ko Tao. With swell and drop of the boat, I was part of the sea, I looked up into the dark sky above me as the night turned to day, and the boat captain at the helm noticed that I had awakened and he gave me a gentle nod and wave welcoming me to this new day. The sun was rising over this small protrusion of earth from the sea, and I was lead again back into the arms of nature, I breathed in its intoxicating life. I smelled the dew, the colors of life being thrown masterfully into the sky, and it was a gentle reminder of the connection. The glowing sky, the inspiring earth ahead and the rolling sea were my universe, and this upon the butterfly-wings of this boat I was fused with this natural harmony. The underlying pattern was slowly bringing ashore, back to the natural elements of my own composition, and it was within this tranquil world that I felt whole; I felt a connection beyond my humanity.

The island is only about 21 square kilometers and with a population under 1000, it's a small, sparsely populated, pristine little place. Ko Tao is one of a chain of three islands of the east coast of Thailand, which have become immensely popular with tourists. We chose Ko Tao because it's supposedly the best place to dive in Thailand and the other two islands, Ko Samui and Ko Pha-Ngan are more chaotic and filled with backpacker parties. We hitched a ride up the road to our primitive bungalow. These bungalows were isolated from the main town, and built upon giant rocks overlooking the clear azure sea. While Bren conducted her usual check of our new digs, I settled into the hammock on the deck.

"I don't think I can stay here. I’m serious, Bri," Bren said from inside the bungalow.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"This place is absolutely infested with bugs. Look at this," Bren said pointing a colony of ants that wandered in one crack of the room and over the floor and through another at the end, and the monster sized cockroaches which roamed the room uninhibited.

"Do you see what I mean?"

"Yeah--"

"Did you see that, that mosquito," Bren screeched as she began spraying the walls, the floor, and the bed with insect repellent.

"Yeah, I see it, babe," I replied not wanting to mention that someone in Krabi had told me of an Australian who recently had contracted malaria in Ko Tao, "But it's hard to beat this place at three bucks a night."

Bren stopped and gave me a cold stare.

"Okay, okay, we'll go check out some other places in town," I quickly offered.

We walked into town, set up our dive for the next morning and checked on other hotels. They were all much more expensive (of course they would be in comparison to $3). After an afternoon of snorkeling and a late dinner we reluctantly headed back to the bungalow of bugs. Bren opened the door...

"Oh my God, look at all those cockroaches! There's even more now at night."

"Wow! The damn things don't even scatter when you turn on the light. Let's just get in bed under the mosquito net--" I was saying as Bren was already diving under the net still fully dressed.

"I'll just undress under here," she said.

I began to laugh.

"Laugh all you want, but I've put up with a lot on this trip: rats, lizards, geckos, crabs, roaches, mosquitoes...all roaming our bed each night. But this is ridiculous, Bri."

"I know babe, you've been great," I replied as I crawled under the net still chuckling. I was content within this environment, within this baseness; in fact, I was at peace within this natural world. The long trip from Phra Nang quickly took its toll, however, and I began drifting off to sleep.

"Bri, Bri..."

"Yeah," I said wearily.

"Do you hear that...that gnawing?"

"Yeah, it's just a rat; I'm really tired, so as long as it stays off my head, it's okay with me—"

"Do you think our packs are all right?"

"They're fine."

After a short pause, "Can you check them, please?" Bren said sitting up with her arms around her knees bent up to her chest.

"C'mon babe, the gnawing is coming from the other side of the room, and we can't do much more than we have—they’re hung from the ceiling for god's sake."

"I know, but can you just check them, please?"

I got up, lit the kerosene lamp and showed Bren the bags were indeed fine. I jumped back under the net, put out the lamp, and again fell back into a slumber when....

"Bri, Bri!" Bren said nudging me awake once again, "Sorry, but I can't do this, I can't sleep here."

After a deep sigh, "Okay, babe. Let's just try and make it through the night and then we'll move down to that nice place we saw earlier. It'll be kind of a vacation for a couple days," I said realizing that it was going to be just as torturous for me to stay here as it was for Bren.

"You mean it?" Bren said with a burst of excitement.

"Yeah," I said barely able to keep my eyes open, and drifting back into my slumber. It was only a few minutes later as I lay in a comfortable, deep sleep, when I was rustled awake, "Bri, Bri...do you think those things can get through the net?"

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

We moved down to a beachside hotel, which was the nicest one we've stayed in since Vegas. It was a big step up at $16 per night, but the pool, the shower in the room, the A/C, and private restaurant all seemed to wash away the cost of our splurge. Bren was ecstatic. It's funny how when you consistently stay in the most basic accommodation, the slightest move upward seems so monumentally luxurious. Clean towels and sheets, doors that actually lock, and no fear of bugs or small critters jumping on my head in the middle of the night, all became extravagant luxuries—luxuries that even the richest of people can't appreciate in a five-star hotel. Still, it's a basic room with only a bed, wicker nightstand, a ceiling fan, and a small bath.

"This place is awesome!" Bren cried out.

"I already know I'm not going to want to leave. Thanks, baby. This is going to be the best vacation ever..."

"Let's take showers," I said.

"Oh God, yes," Bren screamed as she jumped under the water spigot for our first shower in three days, and our first with fresh water in almost ten days, since the water in Phra Nang was a mix of fresh and salt water.

"Who would have thought washing your hair could ever feel so good," Bren said merrily dancing in the shower, "Who would have ever thought…"

We took a "long-tail" over to the nearby private island of Ko Nang Yuan. It's actually three islands each connected by a beautiful strip of sand, which serves as the perfect beach. We snorkeled for hours among the precious coral only a couple feet from shore. It was almost more enjoyable than the diving, since there was such an abundance of sea life so close to shore. That afternoon I wanted to climb the giant mountain of rocks that compose the entire one island. Bren declined having had her share of treks, so I climbed the mountain of rock alone. I reached the summit peak, sat down, took in the commanding view of this tripartite island group, Ko Tao in the background, and the crystal clear blue waters of the Gulf of Thailand. It's amazing contrast—this side of the peninsula where the water is a rich blue while on the west side in Phra Nang, it was a deep green. It was a vision of the paradise we all seek in this world, and as I peered upward it seemed as if the sky was closer. The clouds hung closer to the ground. I felt a distinct vibration within my soul, bringing soft sweet music to my ears. The vibration rhythmically beat within and I became aware of a compassion, a deep sense of love, for the entire planet, this universe, and even myself. I sensed my tiny piece, much like the overnight ferry rising and falling with the sea, floating upon its strings of this harmonic nature.

I sat on the rock, sipping my water, and I reflected on the evolution of the trip—back to the Grand Canyon and Vegas. As I peered upon that giant gorge and the bright lights, both allured me, both tantalizingly appealed to my inner instinct and desire, and like everyone else around me who thought I was crazy, I thought that maybe I was. I had doubt, maybe I was crazy, maybe I would regret giving up so much for the rest of my life. I drew on something within, something that subtly illuminated the Way; I drew on my passion and resisted the temptation to stay in that programmed world and simply maintain the status quo. Although I still had doubt, I did trust myself. I knew on this trip, I was seeking not only to discover the path of faith, but the path of my destiny. It's a quest we all must endeavor, but I knew on some level that mine had hit a wall. My hand was forced. I trusted my intuition that this was indeed the path to my destiny. It was small piece of "faith" that I guess I always possessed.

As I sat on these rocks high above the water and beach of this stunning setting, I looked out at the seamless horizon, and I knew that it represents my struggle. Did I want to stay on the cushy sand, all that I knew and was comfortable with, or did I want to reach out to the unknown of the horizon. As I waded out into the sea toward this unknown, the waves kept pounding me, forcing me back, indeed telling me get to back, get back to what I knew. With each step toward the horizon, there was always another wave that seemed to come crashing into me, expressly ordering me not to leave the comfort and solace of the sandy beach, of solid ground. Yet I just kept swimming, struggling, fighting and at some point I found myself beyond the break of the waves. The horizon of my destiny was still quite a distance away but at least I had broken free. I was now in control. Again, it was much like "faith" and the dangerous "long-tail" boat ride to Rai Leh Beach, which by releasing control, by accepting some basic level of the arbitrariness in life, I gained control. That ugly, uncompromising beast, "LIFE" that used to drag me face first through the dirt in American society was banished, and I had finally taken control of it. The leash was now in my hands.

I know now after meeting the Buddhist monk in Tioman, that this path is right. I do believe in destiny, and I can sense now that I have found the path to mine. The Red Rock has penetrated the surface cleanly and distinctly stands open before me. I see the cracks now in the earth’s crust from this immense phenomenon rising majestically in front of my path. I even here the melodic tune of its inner rumblings, the contorted earth pushing through its thick, coarse skin. Yes, the discussion with the monk kicked a door wide-open, one that before only stood open a crack. This trip is the path to my destiny and ultimately, fulfillment of this destiny may evolve directly from the experiences here on this journey. I don't know, however, exactly what it means or what it entails—to be fulfilling my destiny. However, even though I don't know the destination of my true destiny, I can discern that I am for the first time roaming this "golden" path going somewhere. The leash is mine, and I sense that I’m actually going somewhere, somewhere I was always supposed to go, and somewhere that will activate my ultimate "purpose" in life and in this realm.

And with this thought, in my mind’s eye, I begin to touch, to feel the surface of this giant Rock, and without the slightest hesitation, I begin the climb.

Socrates once said that, "One thing I know, is that I know nothing." I feel that statement beating its own life now within me. For the more I see, the more I touch, the more I experience, the more I realize I don't know. The more I know, the more I don't. Before our experiences in Bali and meeting the Tioman Monk, I wouldn't have been comfortable with this realization. It would have tortured me, endlessly. I always thought the point was to know. I don't know what the point is now, but I do know that it's not just to understand, to just know. I am now comfortable with that because I sense that it's all part of my personal growth. I am simply an empty vat idly waiting to be filled. It's chilling to think of myself before this trip—a time when I would have thought my vat was brimming with knowledge, overflowing with "happiness" and that I was fulfilling my potential as a human being. However, I now see the blatant untruth, that I was deceived and my life was but a mere illusion. I feel now like I've gone back to elementary school with the knowledge I now have, and yet I am left with even more questions.

Although I don’t have any answers, I have the experiences, the dolphins, the whales, the old woman, Aponu, Jay and Lisa, Eebu, and the Tioman Monk. They stand before me as I take the first few steps up the sides of the massive red boulder rising from the earth. I can almost taste the sulfur of Mount Bromo in my mouth, it distinctive smell fills my lungs, and I can see its smoke rising into the heavens. The river grows, ever larger, ever quicker, and its inspiring flow begins to fill the chasm, and actually becomes a profound part of the Grand Canyon itself. It gives it vitality, it is the source of the energy that fills the Canyon, and brings the shadows upon its walls to life. The same divine rays that brought the Canyon to life and brilliantly colored its walls of rock now shine upon my pale face.

I am being guided by the same force, the same energy, and all that binds us; all that we are in the flesh and beneath is now building within me. And I know that the fire of my "return" has been ignited.

I feel it rising within, like the sulfuric smoke of Mount Bromo, and I know that I am going home.

Copyright © 1999 PbFisher. All rights reserved.