We left early the next morning from Ko Tao taking the high-speed boat so that we could get a mini-bus straight to Bangkok. After our previous troubles, we decided to pay the extra few bucks and avoid the unreliable train by taking a van directly to the Capital. Surprisingly, as we docked at the pier everything went as planned and we were quickly on our way to the cultural and spiritual center of Thailand. As we cruised along the two-lane road north, I realized that our time in south Thailand has been filled with some of the best moments of the trip. One of the most enriching experiences, however, has come directly from the people. We've been shown time and time again that if we hold our hands out in assistance, so often a hand is held out in return, and just how often this heart-felt lesson repeats itself. It's been tough trusting, to reach out even after your fingers have been stung in doing so, but frequently our reward for making the attempt has been returned many fold. And in this golden inspiration, we must believe and trust. Is this what those dolphins in Kaikoura knew, that in their selflessness they would somehow become more—that with this magnanimous gift of spirit they touch the truest agapē within? Is this self-denial the virginal path to a communion with the heavenly ribbon—yes, is it a divine tug upon our soul’s silvery cord?

As the late evening drew to a close, we arrived in Bangkok where we were dropped in backpacker's paradise—Khao San Road. I sallied away from the van and gazed up to the star-filled sky above the decaying buildings and within this orphic nebula I saw those dolphins swirling around me, energizing my soul as its purgative touch weaved naturally those silvery threads of freedom. I flew upon the undefiled wings of inner liberty all merely from reaching out selflessly like those dolphins. From this reflection of Nature, from the Mother of earth, I have seen inward to the opaque depths and in this newfound awareness, in accepting the responsibility for this awareness and selflessly giving of my spirit, it is freed. I am free. As I feel this explosion of glowing light sweep up from the mass of blackness, I see Man going back to its origins and with the fated bite of the apple, I see this first moment of "consciousness." In this moment, I become an atricial hatchling and I feel our beginnings, our birth; I feel Adam’s nakedness within, growing, expanding, and I now realize that for my every action there is a reaction of equal force felt somewhere in this universe. The boomerang that began with that sullied bite now flings itself upon my chest and I feel its grip with every aching breath. With each inhaled breath I now feel its suffering, its meaning, and with every exhaled breath I feel its release, its "awareness" sprouting within. Its ineffable palpability strikes deeply my heart and snaps clarity to my delusion, my illusion, and the waters I once sank I now walk.

And the earlier dream of Mary in Krabi flashed quickly in my mind, and I finally realized its "truth," and like a shooting star soaring across the blanket of night, I knew that just as angels may fall, we must also rise. For an act done with the "right" intention and motive can create a life-stopping moment for each in its divine presence. I thought back to the magical circle with Jay and Lisa in Perth and I knew that yes, within this connection, this golden intent, was not only the Way but a sense of significance, and a piece of the "faith" I was in search of—and it lay within my outstretched palm. When this act is accepted and taken without regard for its corresponding potential benefit to the actor—this "golden intent," this selflessness, becomes the beginning of the "magical circle." With it, the shackles are removed and your soul is freed. It is the genesis of life itself for it is the beginnings of love—the agapē we all so deeply yearn to embrace.

Khao San Road is a menagerie of cheap accommodation, delectable one-stop eats, sleazy bars, and vendors selling every "rip-off" product known to man. Our senses were immediately besieged with the flashing lights of neon, blaring horns, roaming emaciated dogs, harrowing screams, and it was all wrapped in the polluted heat which unmercifully clung to our skin. Khao San is laced with seediness, yet it’s the tawdry backbone of the "real" Bangkok. This bustling city is Thailand's largest with more than six million people crowding its narrow streets and canals. It's a sprawling primitive village, dissected by a brackish river serpentining through its interior, and littered with richly ornate temples and lively markets. It's a confusing mass of indistinguishable buildings, where the disarray is evident with a mere glance—the crowded, congested streets filled with throngs of people, vendors, bicycles and cars all seemingly with the same destination in mind. There's nothing artificial about it however, as the sedate genuineness of the people belie this clamoring sense of chaos. Interestingly, on a single street corner in dark reaches of Old Bangkok you will regularly and arbitrarily find a businessman in a silk suit standing next to an elder monk in flowing orange robes, next to an impecunious street person. It is a city without distinctions, and contrary to most cities, it makes no attempt to be different. And for all the confusion, noise and pollution, Bangkok is a place that smacks of reality. It is a sweet intoxicating breath of "real" life, a natural virility, one impossible to artificially manufacture. This delectable summer-like environment is one in which the people are forced to live in and deal with, not one they can simply bend into their own desires for escape. The "suffering" is tangible and it floats in plain view, and it is a place where each is forced to deal constructively with this glaring reality. I feel a deep sense of nature within this organic creation of man—and the irony of the dolphins and Nature showing me a sense of meaning snuggled into my breast. That magnet within earth has again guided me, from Milford Sound to Uluru to Mount Bromo, through the Rai Leh’s lagoon, where I now realize that I’ve been climbing upward from the Trek in Rarotonga. But is my destiny to be found with this unmistakable lure within the bowels of this ball of orbiting rock, this link to my humanity? Is this the Way of the Tioman Monk—this flaming arrow piercing the inky darkness of our nothingness?

As this is our second trip here, we didn't feel the need to hit the big tourist spots, so instead, we leisurely strolled around Old Bangkok. We had learned on our previous trip the hazards of this bubbling city, as once a Thai had approached us on a tuk-tuk (a small three-wheeled motorbike with two seats in back) and roped us into taking us around town. For three hours we were whisked place to place for mere pennies, yet it was never where we wanted. It's a common scam, for the drivers will take you to jewelry stores on the pretense that they're offering some once in a lifetime deal, or to a tailor where they derive a commission if you purchase clothes. In fact, if you don't explicitly direct them not to go to such places, they will. It's a mistake we won't make this time.

Instead, we wandered casually through this alluringly distinctive city, shopping at the ubiquitous markets, eating in its superb restaurants, and visiting a few of the less touristed, smaller temples. We ended our walking tour at the towering temple of Wat Saket, and as we approached the staircase to the top of the summit my attention was drawn to a Buddhist monk dressed in the traditional orange robe sitting gracefully on a bench alone. As we sauntered by, my eyes met with his and he unassumingly gave me a gentle smile. After roaming the temple and observing the commanding view of the sprawling mass of Bangkok, we returned down the same staircase only to find the monk still sitting, almost in wait. I looked at him again, this time curiously, and his gaze remained focused upon us.

"Sawàt dii khráp," I said in casual Thai greeting.

He immediately stood and with his hands clenched together prayer-like, he bowed. Bren and I both stopped and bowed in return, having learned from our monk in Tioman.

He smiled and asked almost embarrassed, "Are you Americans?"

"Yes. Is it that obvious?" I replied.

"No. Not really. In fact, if I hadn't heard you talking before I wouldn't have even guessed you were American. Americans are usually very easy to spot, but I don't know where I would have thought you were from otherwise," he said with another smile.

"So, you picked up on our accents. That's impressive."

"No, no, not so impressive" he said abashedly, "I've been around English my whole life and with experience you learn to tell the difference. Would you please join me?" he asked us pointing to the bench.

I looked quickly at Bren and I could almost read her mind, "Oh, how things keep repeating themselves. It's uncanny." Yet, she smiled and nodded in affirmation and we all took a seat on the bench. Actually, I jumped at the opportunity. I was electrified. So much has happened since our meeting with the Tioman monk and I've been burning with questions. It became immediately apparent that he was pleasantly loquacious and we were content just to sit back and listen to his life story.

"I live outside Bangkok, but every week I come back to pray among the various temples. It enriches my meditation and prayer."

"Just out of curiosity, how did you become a monk, was there something that triggered the desire?" Bren casually asked.

"Yes. Actually, when I was a young man my family home caught on fire and my brother died in the flames. He always wanted to become a monk and after his death, I had many actual dreams about becoming a monk—to fulfill his dream. It then became my dream, my destiny. I accepted it."

"Are you pleased with that decision?" I inquired.

"Very much so. I feel close to my brother everyday—it's been one of the best things I've done with my life. I'm living for two," he said with a chuckle.

"You must find that extremely rewarding," Bren added.

"Yes...I do, I couldn't see my life any other way," the monk said drifting off in thought. We sat in silence for a few moments contemplating the monk's revelation in finding his calling.

"Do you still make the traditional alms-round in your town?" I asked, inquiring into the Thai tradition where every morning a monk goes to predetermined people of the town to collect their food for the day.

"Yes. Of course."

"Besides the obvious reason that you need the food, why is it done?"

"It's based on the Buddhist way of merit. There is a slight distinction between being a monk who devotes their life to the practice of Buddhism and the mainstream Thai. They are not so much concerned with achieving 'Nirvana'; rather they're more interested in improving their lot for the next life cycle."

"Continuing the karmic wheel in the positive direction," I replied.

"Yes. Karma is the ‘memory of the soul’ and we believe that it's important to 'build' the soul from these good deeds—earn merit."

"It seems that the basis for karma then is 'self-responsibility'; it supplies the foundation from which the consequences of one's life become the path of fortune or misfortune—the physical path of fate."

"Yes," he said with a chuckle, "you’ve thought about this much. Yes, karma places the destiny of each individual in their own hands—their fate is on some level controlled by their own actions."

I was instantly reminded of the feeling of being "aware" from New Zealand and Oz, and that my being inherently felt some "responsibility" for becoming aware—not only of my self, but for others and even this world. It was another ironic twist of fate that this monk sat before me spryly offering words of wisdom on karma—the result or tabulation of one’s actions. Yes, that not only for every action is a reaction felt somewhere in the universe, but also that for every action there will be a resounding reaction felt by self. More than just a vicious circle, this is the karmic boomerang of life.

"I understand karma and even personally believe in its presence," I curiously continued, "but it strikes me that the Buddhist system is just a means of offering a reward for being good. The intent behind the 'merit' system is merely to manipulate or guilt the individual into doing "good." I guess it goes along with the Buddhist's belief that we are not inherently good creatures. We must be taught to be good and this system reinforces it."

"You see, my friend, it's all part of bringing the outer being in concert with the inner, and it shows them how to do this," he offered defensively.

"Yes, I understand that and even agree, but my question is that with 'false' intent, that is manipulating or using the person's guilt to do the good deed, I wonder if that is true self-responsibility which would contribute positively to the karma. I would think that it is the intent of the deed which is paramount, not the consequence or result, which ultimately spins the karmic wheel."

"That's an interesting point. Very good," he instructed as if I was a student in a classroom, "but one could say the same about all the religions!"

I smiled in reflective thought then added, "On some level you could, but it seems that with Buddhism in particular, you are just blindly reacting. I mean, with all due respect, it seems to me that our physical life is about seeking opportunities for personal growth, not just blindly reacting to the pain resulting from the karmic wheel of your past actions or trying to manipulate it. Rather, I think we are the controlling factor in our own fate for we have free will...and therefore our life is only a reflection, a shadow, of what we seek. We must use our free will to seek and to understand, not just blindly react!"

He gazed at me. Sternly. I immediately felt remorse for my inquisitive candor and was just thinking about apologizing, when he said, "My friend, you seek much, and yes, you understand much; and indeed you are apt to see much more."

He smiled and brushed my sleeve tacitly and continued, "But don't narrow to conclusions so quickly, be patient even in deriving your conclusions, as you must also see that this is a way of uniting us. It brings all Thais closer to a moral understanding. Also, I have given this much thought, I am not sure that the majority of us could handle pure self-responsibility to do good, that on our own we would seek to do good. And I don't think it matters much which religion you are discussing..."

I could see his point clearly and it hit me hard—whether we could handle such immense responsibility, responsibility to do good. Can our primitive societies handle such unencumbered freedom? I thought back to my earlier question, if we knew an omnipresent "God" did not exist, would we as human beings still be so predisposed to do good? Without the promise of a reward or punishment, would Man turn into the savage that so conspicuously lay within his breast?

"Naturally, this must be where the Buddhist belief that we are not inherently good must stem from," I thought. The more I discovered about Buddhism and Taoism, the more their philosophies filled a deeper aspect to life. Neither offered an end for me personally, but indeed both fulfilled a sense of the means toward daily self-discovery. They both breathe a sense of mechanical reinforcement into the body; a disciplined rigidity toward understanding "growth" and indeed both can contribute toward understanding oneself on a daily basis. For me, neither were true religions and neither broke the code to the inner mysteries of the universe, but rather they clearly offer the paradigm toward understanding myself better, a "philosophy" which could only enrich the quality of my being.

As I waded through my developing thoughts on these philosophies, I truly didn't know if I had offended the monk with my slightly austere questions and comments. However, I knew that Bren certainly thought so for I felt a distinct nudge in the ribs as she changed the subject, "Do you have a specialty within the practice of being a monk?"

"Yes. I am what you'd term something like a scholar."

"Why doesn't that surprise me? And we run into you," Bren said with an ironic chuckle.

"If you don't mind me asking, on what subjects?" I then inquired.

"On various subjects, primarily Buddhism."

"I didn't mean to offend you from my questions--"

"Oh no, no offense," he said with a taut reflective smile, "Your intent is pure, my friend, I can see plainly that you speak directly from that purity; you speak from your heart. Actually, it is my privilege as too few of us truly speak in this manner. It is one of the drawbacks of my culture, sometimes it takes much effort to get to the bottom of a matter. Yes, I feel privileged to speak with you, and to hear your thoughts."

He took my guilt and reservation and deftly spun it into a positive feeling, just as Aponu had done in Fiji. Just as so many others had done. I felt immensely ignorant, maybe it was just me, but I couldn’t remove the feeling that I just didn’t do enough, that I was wasting who I was amongst so many petty things in my life. I rarely give back in this way, and so often I am confrontational and insecure with the world around me. It penetrated my soul, and I felt not only insignificant yet again, but bewildered about myself, who I was. I felt corrupted and weak. My failures as a being seemed magnified, and in that moment, I felt overwhelmingly inferior to anyone, everyone. I felt much like I did in New Zealand when the impurities within me were thrown into Nature, a land of purity; again, the light of Nature, or that Nature within another being has been greeted the darkness within me. I stand on the border of this clashing reality.

As he and Bren continued the conversation, I reflected on his statement and I knew that it was a gift of sincerity, not merely an appeal to one's ego, for he actually saw the positive in me. He understood that to do good, you must see the good first. He was more than learned, a man filled with wisdom, or even a simple monk, he was a man who lived by his words and beliefs, and for this reason he was a man beyond his physical parts. Because of this conviction, he was more than just the fountain of knowledge before me, for he so significantly gave back to the whole and he did it every day. Within this giving back was a sense of compassion that was so powerful, I felt as in those moments before that I simply couldn’t handle it—his nimble grace was far beyond my awkwardness. He gave too much, much more than I was capable of giving, and even more than I was capable of receiving. This realization ached within, and more than anything scared me to my deepest spiritual parts. He became in that moment, however, a light, one so bright that it seems to swallow the negative, the despair, and yes, the "suffering" in the human existence. He was the ideal. People in his presence grew stronger just from being around him, and this gift was palpably apparent, so clear and defined, and he freely offered it to me. It transcends the tenebrosity within and around me, and I felt that focused point of light grow, and like the Pancake Rocks rising to the sky another layer is added to my being.

Refreshed and relieved, Bren and I then explained our fortuitous meeting with the monk in Tioman and our discussions on Buddhism and Taoism.

"Yes, I have heard of this occurring, it's not rare but it doesn't happen very often that a monk leaves to find something, something more. But you must understand that our way of learning is not only through books but also through interaction with our elders, counselors, and scholars. If we have a question we go to them."

"And if they cannot answer the question?"

"Then we must search for it ourselves. The monk you met must have thought that the answer was somewhere beyond."

"I have to say that after my discussion with him I didn't understand his conception of Buddha."

"Yeah," Bren said picking up the cause, "Do you consider him a 'god'?"

"That's difficult to answer. I think I see what you're asking, and I would say no. You see, as Buddhists, we believe that the world is ever changing and as such there isn't a time you could point to and say 'this is God' just as you could never point to me and say 'this is me'."

I instantly recalled Bali, Eebu, and my thoughts on reincarnation, and how it naturally removed the distinctions of "me," that the "me" of present day, or in this life, was a mere blink in lifetimes of observation and learning. As a result, the "me" blends into a larger entity, something beyond our comprehension.

"Then to whom do you pray?" I eagerly asked.

"You are a challenging one, aren't you?" he said to me with a distinct smile and a rare brush of his hand to my shoulder.

"I pray to no specific thing or being, it's more of a meditation on the principles of Buddhism and praying is more of the spiritual side to it. It brings into the consciousness the natural order from the unconscious, from the unseen. Hmm, let's see, it brings the spiritual world into the material."

"So you are attuning the physical to the spiritual?"

"Yes, exactly. But understand that it is from within that this meditation takes place, from within what I believe you'd call the 'soul.' It is within the inner self that the power and strength arise."

"I understand, we meditate although probably not in the same form you do. Then you don't believe that Buddha created the world?"

"No. He's just a supreme teacher."

"Then if you don't mind me asking, what do you think of Jesus?"

"He's another supreme teacher."

"Do you follow him then as well."

"No. But it's because I identify with the teachings of Buddha."

"Do you reject the teachings of Jesus?" Bren then jumped in and asked caught in the emotion of the moment.

"No, I don't reject them. I respect them. It's just that I don't reflect on those specific parts of his teachings each day."

"Do you believe that Jesus is God's son though?"

"That's such a complex question for me. I do not avoid it, but you must understand that we believe there isn't a point at which you can say God exists. So, I do not have an opinion on Jesus being the son of 'God'. It’s not relevant to my daily living."

"Okay, so I realize that there isn't a specific entity you believe that you can point to and say 'this is God,' but do you think that man was created by some other supreme entity or 'God'?"

"Again, that's not so relevant, is it?"

I looked him deep in the eyes and couldn't help but smile. I knew he was right, I knew it, because that's precisely what I thought in Bali...that it’s not as relevant as our relationship with the cosmos and that's exactly what Buddhism embraces—the relationship to the beyond. It builds a tangible bridge from this realm to the next, and in doing so, what you find there and the existence of a supreme "God" is not so relevant. Again, "God’s" existence doesn’t answer the most basic and profound questions in our own existence, who are we and where are we going.

"You are certainly a driven soul, your search is a deep one, my friend."

I looked up, slightly amazed but then thought, "Do I wear it on my forehead? No, I'm not going to even ask how he sees that."

"It's a search I am personally not in tune with," the monk continued.

"How can you say that, how do you know that?" I said in exasperated disbelief.

"For it is not my path, not my destiny."

"I don't understand?" I replied befuddled.

"It's just not in me, my search is elsewhere. Each of us has our own destiny, it's own physical path designed for us from the beginning. Some of us find it and embrace it, many don't, but most never even begin the search. I can see plainly that you have begun your search. You wear it upon your face and heave its burden upon your shoulders," he said with another tender smile, "When you do find it, hold it tightly and embrace it with all that is your being."

"Well, how am I to know if I am worthy of this search you see?"

"You already do!" he said wryly, "You understand that it is part of who you are...and that's the first step in the search."

"What?" I pleaded, " I don't even know what it is I'm searching for?"

"Ah, but you do. The signs are all around you—don’t be afraid, trust, have faith, my friend," he said looking at me deeply with a gaze as if he somehow knew me beyond this moment.

I was helplessly caught in his grip, his gaze, as he smiled endearingly in my direction from the corners of his warm focused eyes.

"I have enjoyed this more than you could realize, it has been a blessing—truly," he then said breaking the short silence, "Just remember, my friend, sometimes what you seek is never found, but wisdom is realizing the search itself is something found, it's fulfillment of the being. And sometimes what you find isn't what you sought, but wisdom is recognizing what it is you have found nevertheless."

He paused, stood and gazed intensely upward to the sky above us all. He clenched his hands together, bowed and calmly offered, "Forgive, have faith, and always move in peace, for your path awaits my friend!"

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

Later that night, we boarded an overnight train to Chiang Mai in the far northern hills of Thailand. The interior is dim, only shadows of blackness pass by me. The dried sweat on my skin sticks to the plastic seat from another long, hot day in Bangkok; I stink. My mind whirls in a zone of lucidity, I breathe in clarity. With this streaming awareness that envelopes my being, the objects around me seem sharper, more in focus; and yet the world, the overall landscape has never seemed so hazy and clouded. I look out the window at the sweet darkness of Thailand that stretches out before me. The shadows of palm trees, rice fields, bamboo huts, pass by as the soft warm breeze blows through the window and into my face, and I can't help but think about the monk's profound words of wisdom. Are they the shadow or merely the object casting the shadow?

I was struck by the monk's outward acceptance of Christianity. He didn't feel the least bit threatened by it and certainly, it created no conflict with his beliefs in Buddhism. Indeed, we have encountered many people in Southeast Asia who react and feel this same way—their beliefs are not threatened by other religions. It's refreshing, as so few are truly secure enough with their religious beliefs to keep an open mind about other religions. Many Christians, especially in America, try to intimidate others with the overbearing attitude, "Believe as I do or you're going to hell." It's the virulent fear of being left out that makes these individuals attempt to "force" believers out of others. It's such a crude, primitive way of thinking, especially about one of the most complex subjects known to Man—a subject we as humans may never fully understand.

Religion is an age-old tool used to conform and stabilize the masses, one manifestly created by Man himself, and history clearly bears this out. It provided significance to the lives of the masses by providing a framework of guidance, and it couldn't be more evident than in the people of Thailand. The monk acknowledged that one of the underlying benefits to Buddhism in Thailand is that 95% of the people subscribe to its teachings. This overwhelming percentage naturally establishes a common ribbon flowing through their society, one that puts nearly every citizen on the same page as to right and wrong. It provides a moral code and in this, it unites them. Today, for better or worse, that is lost in present day America. We have grown beyond this conforming bond to religion. Each individual now possesses the freedom to discover his own personal spirituality, and in effect, his own moral code. The responsibility is now ours individually. Never before has such a massive group of people had such a unique opportunity. Truly, this point cannot be understated for just as humans have evolved physically, we also have spiritually, and strikingly, this may presently be the pinnacle moment, the crossroads, in the spiritual evolution of Man.

We now have this imposing choice to control our own spiritual evolution, and in the history of Man, it's never been so poignant. That is, if we choose to embrace, cherish, and accept fully the responsibility of individually discovering our spirituality, our beliefs, our morals, we can as a people move into a different realm of existence. Indeed, this does become the flaming arrow piercing the darkness, it’s an existence where our spirituality is revered and creates a strong foundation for our societal construct—one that naturally contributes back to the whole, to our Oneness. However, freedom cuts sharply both ways. On the flip side, should we fail to recognize the special opportunity before us, and grip it tight to our hearts, we could well find that the moral degradation that freely arises from this freedom will cost us our prized liberty or our distinctive souls. Even worse, the Empire will just crumble from within this moral degradation and chaos, just as many ancient civilizations can attest. We have been given this simple choice from our inception as entities, both within a Darwinian environment and within a Creation environment. As I discovered in New Zealand, this choice is within us—this darkness and focused light of awareness; also, as uncovered in Australia, this choice is within the earth—this path to interconnectedness; and as I have learned in Indonesia, this choice is placed in front of us as beings toward each other—to generate selflessness and be freed from the tethers of self-gratification. It has become clear here in Thailand, and as the monks indicated this is our Way, this underlying pattern, this hidden, magnetized thread conjoining us with this realm and beyond—leading us upward to our origins and beyond our physical beginnings.

Unfortunately, with each passing day it seems that we have chosen the latter and embraced the freedom to destroy. It seems that the words of the monk ring true, that we could not "handle pure self-responsibility to do good, that on our own we would seek to do good." Indeed, especially in America, we must have something to believe in that is greater than ourselves, and greater than even our collective selves. Do we need religion and religious dogma to manipulate us into doing good, into belief, into having faith? Must we be explicitly told how to live, must we have rules and laws patently put before us to illuminate our path of understanding? Yes, that without "God" or any other supreme entity, are we nothing but a seeds of a dandelion floating through the open air? Even more, is it necessary that we have a "God" to rescue us—even from ourselves? Certainly, we must collectively realize that this "pattern of thought" only diminishes us as human beings. That this way of thinking, one in which we fail to see inward and seek the answers from within our souls, one which prevents us from accepting responsibility for our thoughts and corresponding actions. Without it, we simply and blindly believe in a few select rules of indentured servitude and we await our judgment, we wait for our reward or to endure the wrath. It is from the search inward and the willingness and desire to contribute back to the whole that we will experience "true" love—the agapē, a sense of our “significance” as human beings and one that creates the harmony of Oneness.

I close my eyes and with my inner vision I see Aponu, the monks here in Thailand and Malaysia, I see the deepest recesses of Nature, and I feel their connection, and a sense of this "love," this profound agapē. In this simple universe within me, I think about the learned monk's acceptance of the other religions, and I think about the words of the clairvoyant, Eebu, who said, "The different religions of the world are distinctly separate, but it we as humans that make it so. There is no exclusivity to the realm of Heaven and God." I hear those words ring through my mind and it sniffs out the prosaic catechism of organized religion, and this tolling resounds through my void, my cavity of spiritual nothingness. Personally, I now believe in the Buddhist concept of karma, I believe in the Hindu concept of reincarnation, and I believe in the Christian concept of Jesus’ sacrifice, and I don't find them to be at all in conflict—because there isn't one. They all mesh, and indeed, they may actually create one. They all attempt to make our mundane lives more deific by offering a virtuous path—simply, each seeks to discover the golden Way within this world. In this flowing ribbon of life, this feathery moonlight upon the night’s blackness, is the essential path upward for us all.

Again, we are all different yet the same. The religions of the world are all different yet the same. Is it not remarkable the overwhelming similarities between the religions, not just between Judaism and Christianity where the similarities are obvious but also between them and the Hinduism of Bali and Buddhism of Thailand? It truly boggles the mind that we as humans are so blind to what binds us. Why we do not accentuate and focus on the similarities between the religions of the world, an ideal that would clearly promote greater unity and harmony among us, among the whole of humanity. It is there, within the bonds of humanity, ironically, that lay our strength, our "significance" as human beings. And this is so, forever so, with or without the existence of "God". He merely adds to the grandeur of the experience. More importantly, if one day we can give back to this "God," much like the monks and Aponu did for me, it will create a relationship of interdependency—one bound in "faith." Do we not aspire for "God" to have "faith" in us, to build a mutual relationship, instead of one based on singular dependency? Rather, it does seem that we have explicitly chosen to emphasize the differences between us, one that naturally creates a rift that cuts through us all like a knife, one that causes constant tension and confusion. And most emphatically, one that belittles the experience of being human.

Again, are we as humans this aloof, arrogant and blatantly primitive?

To move forward, to spiritually evolve, we must all understand that it's not about right or wrong. If it was, none of us would be given access to life beyond the physical, for it seems highly unlikely that any of the religions is "right," that any of the religions of the world possess on their own all the answers. If religion is about anything it's about understanding, understanding a moral code, one that provides guidance for each of us toward "purity," toward our ascension spiritually. One that makes each one of us feel "significant" and gives power and strength to the collective, which then returns back to the individual in a form bound in "faith." It's about respect, respect for others and their beliefs toward unity, love and ultimately, toward our Oneness. The precipices of this are identified, even taught, in each religion, and yet ironically, when it comes to even listening to the ideals of another religion these sacred principles are thrown out the window.

Whether one code has a different tenant or slant is of little consequence to the overall goal, the same goal espoused by all the differing religions, for they are all different, yet the same. The blindfold of our primal ignorance has never been so conspicuous than in the annals of religious influence. However, and ironically so, the power of us as people, as citizens of the world, and quite possibly the key to our spiritual evolution as humans may very well rest uncomfortably in using the knowledge and wisdom of all the religions to reach the final summit. Maybe, we've been given, like pieces to a puzzle, all the necessary information and it's just a matter of interlocking this information to create the wholeness of the ideal and the glorious picture to our existence.

My body freely sways side to side with the gentle rocking of the car, and I listen to the steady clicking of the train as it zips along the track, my spirit is sober, my solemnness is resounding. Life has never been so real. I know as I sit in the tranquillity of the darkness that we cannot escape it, and indeed, we will never escape it. It is our bond, it is a precious piece to our growth, to our awareness and evolution, and it will forever be so.

We are all different, yet the same.

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

The wicked monsoon awakened yet again from its sleepy somber. The wind whipped and the rain poured in sheets drawn heavily from the sky, as Bren and I donned our raincoats and slogged up the mountainous terrain. Our socks squished with each laboring step as we trudged over the trail of thick mud and fought through the dense thicket of wet underbrush. There were two Thai guides for the eleven of us along the trek that would take us to the border of Burma and then back to Chiang Mai. Our group consisted of an Australian couple, two girls from Denmark, another from Switzerland, four girls from England, Bren and me. We, the countries of the world, plodded along single file in virtual silence through the unrelenting wall of rain, following the narrow muddy trail as it wound over the green mountains, and through the eeriness of the dense entanglement of jungle. We had inauspiciously begun our three-day trek through the jungle-clad peaks of northern Thailand. We were led along a path where we waded through chest-high swollen streams, over single log bridges twenty feet above a raging river below, and up sheer rock faces. The spirit of the jungle rose up before me as a haunting reminder of fear itself—the taunting spear jabbing at my throat, and yet this enveloping green wall had a calming allure. It was the savage side of nature and I felt its unmistakable call within, seducing me into its mesmerizing fold. With the ever-changing views and scenery, the wildlife, the energy of this mystical place, I was quickly captured in its esoteric spell.

As the sun began to fade, we finally arrived at the small hill-tribe village where we stopped for the night. As a group, we sat down for a dinner of rice and beans and discussed our travails for the day. We are among the hill-tribe of "Lisu"; this village consists of a mere 100 people or so. There are roughly fifteen different types of hill-tribe in the mountains of north and west Thailand. These "mountain people" as the Thais refer to them are small, semi-nomadic tribes, who have settled in these remote northern mountains. Each tribe possesses their own customs, religious beliefs, style of dress and even their own language. They live on their own with little interaction with the Thai people and their way of the life. They are the "Native American" of Thailand, except that they've been allowed to keep their land and maintain their way of life without significant interference.

As we all crawled into our sleeping bags on floor of the open hut and the last kerosene lamp was doused, I laid motionless in the darkness as the sounds of the jungle permeated the chilled air. I thought about these unassuming people of Thailand, these "mountain people," and I couldn't help but think of the once simple people of America, the Native American. I am extremely proud of my heritage as an American. In the course of our short history, we have proved to be bold, innovative, brave souls who took on the righteous cause for independence and freedom. We fought with our hearts, we persevered, and we won on many levels. Indeed, my ancestors created the greatest empire the world has ever seen, and yet, the one part of this history that I've always had a difficult time grasping was the warped policy on the Native American. On this journey around the world, we have seen this situation time and time again throughout the world—from the Aborigines in Australia to the hill tribes here in Thailand, and I'm certain we will see this situation again in people of Nepal and tribes of Africa.

I can see first-hand how both sides of this apparent dichotomy in Thailand have not only benefited from the presence of the other, but more importantly, how they've learned from the other. It therefore strikes me that we may have in our ignorance played the bombastic fool in our relationship with the Native American. It's a driving splinter under my nail for we have frivolously placed such a destructive wedge into their culture, one that forced dependency upon our culture for its survival. Sadly, in the process, history may prove that we personally eradicated one of the greatest cultures ever formed on our young planet. It's a legacy that will be forever embroidered on our chests as Americans, and just as I am proud of our heritage, I know we must equally understand and bear our failures.

To me, however, the most disheartening aspect is just how little of the Native American culture we have chosen to absorb, just how little we learned, not only from them but also from the situation. We have snubbed our noses to them, and aloofly spurned their history and culture. We have taken a profoundly dim view of their proud heritage and quite possibly no other group of Americans has been oppressed to any greater degree. In fact, they have been forced to integrate into a culture they found offensive and debilitating to their own, and yet this reliance was necessary for their own survival as a people. Unfortunately, there is no other reasonable way to view it. Just as I have learned on this trip that everyone has something to teach, I know this bears out likewise in whole cultures, and none have been more profound than with the Native American. I can't help but wonder if this will become the trademark of America, to emasculate the vulnerable and then blindly strangle the life from their culture? Is this not a harrowing reality for a culture founded and built upon the pristine pillars of freedom, independence and liberty for all?

However, I know that I must take responsibility for this indifference to their plight, for it represents the fight we all must undertake individually. So I refuse to place my hand on the bloodied sword America continues to wield in the name of democracy, in a call of honor, in a cry for justice, all in the misguided hope of sustaining its material world. We cannot continue as a people to just abide, to just accept. We cannot continue to ignorantly sully these ideals, for if in practice you fail to promote the virtuousness of the ideals, then you tear directly at the basic fabric of this foundation—you seek less, you accept less and you become less. We have freely embarked upon this soiled path. For good or bad, we must now seek the "truth," not blindly follow this pernicious path of ignorance. We were once a principled people, one who believed in the truth, and a people who in fact sought the truth—even if it meant our death. Our history bears this out clearly, but it also bears out that when it's convenient, we have created our own "truth." It's just as important for our growth as a nation, as a people, to recognize that we have seen both sides of "truth," and no situation displays this more than our relationship with the Native American. We may now sail under a different flag but I truly wonder if we have become the English we fought so hard against for our own independence. Our history, even our movies, creatively depict the Union Jack as overbearing, ignorant, and tyrannical, and let's not make any mistake about it, we have merely followed in their formerly oppressive footsteps.

I distinctly recall feeling as a young boy resentment, even bitterness, toward the Native Americans when I first learned of the battle at Little Big Horn. I didn't identify myself with these Original Americans, I didn't choose to understand more about them or the battle, and I allowed only that perspective to teach me. I allowed those written words to rule me. I immediately identified with those who intruded upon that land, and failed to acknowledge the original occupants, and ironically, I wonder now if this is our Last Stand as a nation. Have we, by our own bloodied hand, split our flanks up the gut much like Chief Sitting Bull? Has our culture become a runaway ghost train, the tracks laid prominently forth but with no way to stop this destructive force? For indeed that battle was a bold slap in the face that we could indeed learn something from such a proud and deep culture—that what we have can always be improved upon. Maybe that battle of 100 years ago now serves as a daunting reminder of the bold ignorance that still exists to this day—that we climb to the "Needle" without regard for others, the spirit of the quest, or the consequences? Is this not what caused the "Fall of Man" in the first place? Yet we can always shed the ignorance in the hope of gaining wisdom, but it can only be if we choose to openly embrace it—to observe our true inner state of being and seek to understand ourselves. And there is hope for us all in this spirit of change, this spirit of discovery...for in this ideal lay the harmony of our destiny: where no man or culture, regardless of position or status, is trampled upon for the benefit of another.

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

The following day we donned our clothes from the previous day which remained rank, wet, and cold, but after the first hour of hiking through the drizzling rain it didn't matter. The long day's trek was much like the day before, and I reveled in being physically in touch with this magnificent part of the world. I relished every drop of rain, every muddy step, every slippery fall, and every thorny scratch. It was like watching a horror movie where you never knew what lurked around the next corner, but still, you just had to look. I kept finding myself wanting to leave the trail and delve into the dense dark wall of green, to strike out into its untouched veins. How the jungle, and its ominous folds of entanglement, allured me so. For within the shadows of this mysterious canopy, I sense the shadow within myself, that within the "awareness" of this celestial Nature, I sense the Pemberton Tree, I sense the conquering of the fear of my own shadow. And in this lurid confrontation lay the uncovering of the "I" in "I am," where the purge of those "corrosive toxins" reveals the truer being, the depth of the soul. Within my mind’s eye, I can then see the entity imbedded in the physical body—the shadow—and the light of the soul then sheens through all dimensions. For without the shadow or the fear that gives this shadow strength, the glimmering rays of "truth" shine forth into the fold of eternity.

It becomes the golden Way.

We arrived at the next village by late afternoon, and had time to interact with the "Lahu" hill-tribe. I strolled casually through the tiny village: no streets, no cement, no electricity, and no hot water. I walked among the patchwork bamboo framed huts with thatched roofs, and the crops, while goats, chickens, and dogs roamed freely around me. It's amazing to see first-hand just how primitively they live and it still boggles my mind to think this is how the majority of people live in this world. The children saw me and stormed from their huts in force to completely swarm me. They swarmed me, however, not because they haven't seen foreigners in the village before, but precisely because they have seen foreigners in the village. They wanted candy—they wanted the foreigner's candy. When they found out I didn't have any, they turned on me, and I became the maleficent monster who insolently prowled through their village. They became belligerent, even malicious toward me. One young boy pulled on my hair, while another tried to crack me with a stick. The "Cassowary effect" had reared its ugly head again.

As a group, we all sat scrunched around the small wooden table for dinner and the subject of "candy" was again broached.

"The villagers are angry with you!" our Thai guide informed us.

"What. Why?" the Aussie boldly cried out.

The guide leaned into the table to see each one of our faces and said, "They call you stingy. Stingy, greedy foreigners."

The eleven of us sat stunned. Speechless.

"They say no show for you...the kids will not sing or dance for you now."

"All because we didn't bring any candy?" one of the English girls asked.

"Yes."

"I knew this was going to be a problem," I said.

"Yeah, but all the remarks in the logs and journals from people on the previous trips said not to bring candy."

"Yeah, it will ruin their teeth since they have no dentists," someone cried out.

"Or that it displaces their regular diet," another said.

"Or worse, it teaches them to hold their hand out," the Aussie belted out with his palm held forth displaying their overt greed.

"And they get nasty when you don't have it, as I found out earlier," I added recounting the incident earlier with the kids.

"Well, we're seeing that right now, that it's not only the kids," the Danish girl added.

The Thai guide just observed. His eyes peeled to each one of us as we spoke. He was entranced with the dilemma facing the "privileged" of the world.

"This is all so upsetting," someone added.

"I don't know if we should be embarrassed or angry."

"I knew we should have just brought some candy, they're kids for God's sake," Bren said.

"Okay, we can argue the ethics of it all later, the real question is what are we going to do about it now. Any suggestions?" I said.

"I may be able to get a motorbike from a friend in another village and go get some candy, but it will take a while though," our guide offered.

"I say we follow the advice of the others before us, no candy!" the Aussie said determined.

"We agree," the Danes said after quickly conferring.

"Wait a minute now, I think we made a mistake by not bringing the candy," one of the English girls offered.

"I'm telling you right now, I'm not going to be bushwhacked into giving them a bloody thing," the Aussie firmly stated pounding his fist on the wooden table.

"Well, I think it's something we should at least try and agree on," Bren casually offered.

"Hey, this isn't a democracy we're running here," the Swiss girl finally spoke, "this isn't America!"

"Here we go again," I thought exasperatedly, "at least they're consistent though."

"No, I agree with Brenda, we do have to come to some conclusion together," one of the other English girls said.

"There's nothing to think about, we aren't going to be bullied into giving them candy because they called us stingy...I don't give a damn what they call us!" the Aussie continued to pound away.

"Wait a minute. I see what you're saying, but what if their perception is correct, what if we are being stingy," I pointed out.

"That's not the bloody point!" the Aussie fired back at me.

"What are we teaching them if everyone who comes through gives them candy, even dismissing all that dentist bullshit."

"I agree that it sets a precedent; maybe even a bad one, I won't argue with you there. However, whose responsibility is it to establish that precedent? It was ours in the beginning not to ever bring candy to them, but now that it has, I feel that it's no longer our responsibility to choose; it's the village leaders, the parents. Where do we get off introducing them to candy in the first place and then one day deciding for them that it's not good for them and arbitrarily stopping it!"

"Sorry, I don't buy it! We're still teaching them to beg, to ask for these things," the Aussie vociferously propounded.

"I really think that's an arrogant position to take...you are stripping them of the power of making their own decisions, don't you think that it's condescending to make the decision for another, all just because you have such a power."

"Oh, the American lectures us on arrogance and condescension. My God, what's this world coming to!"

"Look, I don't give a damn what country you're from...this is our decision as a group. I think that it's just not morally right to think that they can't make that decision themselves, how do you 'bloody' know they didn't have some huge village meeting to decide this issue? The freedom to decide should be theirs, and theirs alone—and obviously, they have spoken."

"The American cries out for freedom," one of the English girls sarcastically remarked, "and I'm with him!"

Bren added, covering my back, "Yeah, the parents obviously want their children to have the candy, and it's something they cannot otherwise afford. We can."

It was five to five, and ironically, the vote came down to the Swiss. We all sat silent in anticipation, all our eyes intently bore down on the Swiss girl who no longer could remain neutral.

"I'm with the Americans," she said somberly with obvious reluctance and the issue was finally resolved.

As our guide left for the candy, the Aussie yelled out, "Let me buy the American a beer!" He went to the local man who had a cooler of drinks from town just for the foreigners, and purchased two beers.

"Here's to our American friend, who for better or worse has taken us down the candy trail..." he said with a firm pat on my back to the bemusement of all.

"Sometimes, I don't like your government or politics, and I definitely don't like hot dogs, but I do like Americans," he continued.

"Well, I don't like your sports, and I definitely don't like vegamite sandwiches, but I do like Aussies," I replied giving him a manly embrace.

In that hug, as strange as it was, I couldn't help but think of the Swiss. The Aussie and I acknowledged and respected one another for the stand we each had taken, not the content of it, but the stand. Again, the similarities with the people of Oz were striking, and again, my views with the Swiss couldn't have been more disparate. In the end, though, it wasn't a country or its people that prevailed, rather it was the resounding triumph of democracy.

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

We woke early to the rumblings of elephants romping through the village. Our short trekking adventure continued as the elephants took us upon their backs for a two-hour journey back to the river. We made the short climb over their gray leather-like skin and prickling hair onto the wooden platform atop its back. Once the novelty wore off of being atop one of nature's largest beasts, each step thereafter only seemed to amplify the discomfort. After a quick lunch, however, we were off to the rapids as we journeyed down the rolling white waters in a bamboo raft. The heated discourse over the candy the night before brought with it a newfound respect for each in the group and this bond manifested in jokes, pranks, and water battles. We the people of western culture put aside our differences and truly became friends. Yet for all the jocularity and camaraderie, it was all tested in one simple moment. The night before I had slipped our guide the money for the candy, it was all Bren and I had left until we got back to Chiang Mai. As we all bounced around in the bed of the truck taking us back into the city, the Aussie declared, "Wow, we never paid the guide for the candy."

"Oh my God, that's right!" one of the English girls added.

"Actually, Bri paid him," Bren chimed in.

After a slight pause of lingering reflection the Aussie cried out, "Well, I'll be damned if the Americans didn't bail us all out, who among us would have ever thought that possible? Hey, whoever said Americans can't get over themselves. Everyone, stand up and meet the man!"

It took everything I had to remain silent as I listened to each mock our country’s perceived arrogance. As Bren dug her nails into my arm, I even attempted to laugh at their ringing perception of America and its people. It was at that moment, I harkened back to Fiji and the Americans who had barged in on the kava party, and I knew without a doubt, that I was representing America, I knew I represented all of America to those nine people. I thought about my upward climb spiritually and the dichotomy of the partners and Mary, this clashing of the sea upon land, and its essence within my fight to understand myself—and I realized that this was a test, much like the nine partners who surrounded me with Mary’s case. The wind howls and whips the safe hold of the branches of my Pemberton Tree into a swaying frenzy, and to restore a sense of equilibrium and harmony one must actively confront this imbalance.

There was so much I could have said, so many thoughts surged forth, my mind raced, and I desperately yearned to strike back. More than with the partners, this was my home being verbally assaulted, its essence questioned, even mocked. However, in that same moment, one that would have made the Tioman monk proud, I remained patient and steadfast in silence. I did so, because I realized that in silence our act stood on its own, that we had given back selflessly without regard to whether we’d be paid back or receive the glory of the act. I gazed over their faces as we continued to say nothing, and their laughter quickly faded and a sense of confused compassion stirred upon their glassy pupils. I stared openly over each of them, and with each my reflection danced in their colorful mirrors and theirs in mine.

I felt the dream of Mary again, but this time it was resounding—and I began to feel the shackles vanish almost at the precise time my heart, mind and soul chose this path.

The group felt it, and like a skip of the heart that instantly redirects your attention to preciousness of life, they felt the sincerity of the act within their soul. I recognized again the full circle of this magic—to take a step back, reflect and step forward with compassion and selflessness. It worked, for my anger and embarrassment dissolved into sugary compassion and their mocking mirth turned into a solemn connection of the human spirit. It was the teachings of Aponu, the dolphins, the monks, this earth, and they all spoke to me, they whispered their sweet affirmation of our union. The Way had been shown to me, to Bren, to them, and we all sat in this "magic circle" silent entranced by this unseen cord of spiritual energy, and even though our bodies didn’t move aside from the gentle rocking naturally with swaying of the truck, our spirits danced openly. They knew, I knew, we all knew, just how we were connected and it had nothing to do with our spoken language, the color of our skin, or our nationality.

And with this shimmering insight, the "magic circle" closed for me and I realized that Mary in the dream was really myself, and the first-person perspective was merely the shadow of this real self. When I confronted it by giving back selflessly, the shackles were removed and my true self set free.

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

Upon arriving back in Chiang Mai, we spent the remainder of the day roaming its charming streets. Chiang Mai actually is a small city tucked in among the far reaches of the hills of northern Thailand. With a population a fraction of that of Bangkok and yet as many temples, Chiang Mai is a city filled with character and tradition. But by far the most striking aspect to the city is its endearing people, as they have been the friendliest we've encountered on the trip. It suits me perfectly. Without a doubt, it's a place that we both are reticent to leave, as it's virtually backpacker's paradise: cheap accommodation, excellent Thai food, friendly locals, and it's a placed filled with tranquility.

The Himalayas called forth however, and we arrived back in the big city of Bangkok the next morning for our last taste of Southeast Asia. Ironically, for Bren and I, Asia begins and ends here. Our first sample of Asia was here on the previous trip and it was laded with pure "culture shock." With rats scurrying along conspicuously in the day-lit streets, the thick clouds of choking pollution, a man with no arms and legs crawling naked along the street, the curt and brash people of this overcrowded city, all gave us a frightful tap that we'd never return to this place. Yet, here we stand in the heart of Bangkok once again, and now we can't get enough of her, of her character, her dignity. I now see that it's the dignity of "real life," where all is laid to bare for everyone to see and feel, and there's nothing more "real" than that. It was something I couldn't relate to on the first trip, indeed, something I couldn't handle. Much like viewing the Grand Canyon, these parts of the world are a mirror into your soul. They force you look within, to glimpse into what’s inside and deal with the fear, the guilt, and the anxiety. Places like Bangkok confront that sensitive part of the soul that conjures up those "corrosive toxins" of life, one that each of us must deal with to experience personal growth. Indeed, it is from the glimmer into this chasm of reality, in Bangkok, that provides perspective, a deeper sense of appreciation, and one that the foundation of "happiness" is ultimately built. I hear Raoro’s deep laugh, and I see Aponu’s glowing smile, the islands of the South Pacific, and I know that this is, yes, this is a profound but simple "truth" about our existence.

I now think there truly was an Angel who was with me in Bali, as Eebu prophesied. An Angel who thrust us upon her wings and carried us from the mystical island of Bali, through Java to Singapore and up through the Malay Peninsula to where we stand presently in Bangkok. She showed us the captivating spirit of this part of the world, and it has been without a doubt the most enriching two months of our lives. No amount of money could buy it, no book could teach it, and no words could express it. I sipped from the goblet of life, I tasted its delicate sweetness, and its blood now flows through my veins. From here on, these experiences will only be memories, but they will always be with me; they will, much like the Tioman monk, always endure, and that's something no one can ever take away from either of us. We have lost the programming of our society, we are liberated, free from the inner trappings that devours the soul, and within this "awareness" I sense the "significance" of being alive. I feel the beating heart of something much deeper than myself, and I sense its interconnectedness within the "underlying pattern of the universe." I now feel the spiritual opulence in living life.

I feel like Bren did in Kaikoura, New Zealand, when after the dolphin swimming, whale watching and the seals, we sat on the rocks watching the sun set and she reflected that it was best day of her life. Here, there is no sunset, no awe-inspiring snow-capped mountains, no deep blue horizon to appreciate, but I realize now as I stand in the polluted, soiled depths of Bangkok, that this two months may very well have been the finest moments I will ever experience in my life. And I gratefully savor every moment. I even savor my destiny, which is beginning to unfold before my very eyes. It’s all rolling with abandon now, and I savor the fervor of this underlying pattern within me, within the earth, within the cosmos. I savor it knowing that it all began here, here in Southeast Asia.

I look up passed the grungy buildings of Khao San Road, to the open blue sky above, and I know that a precious piece of Southeast Asia's soul is now forever mine. I will wear it proudly around my neck, close to my heart, and eternally cherish the gift of its being...forever.

Copyright © 2000 PbFisher. All rights reserved.