Monastery Memories

It was over a year ago. I was in Thailand, a small city in the North. I went to the temple, my favorite in Chiang Mai, sat down in front of the golden statue and had a chat with my buddha. Something I had done almost everyday that I was in Thailand. It was so enjoyable, so easy. The temples were always beautiful as if they radiated the love and care that all the neighbors shower upon it everyday. The fresh flowers, the wafting incense, that smiling calm buddha just sitting, waiting, watching. And I would sit as the rowdy school groups would come in, the quiet old women, the dedicated adults, the families, the young professionals, basically the whole neighborhood; they would all bow- 3 times. To the buddha, to the dharma, to the sangha. Or in other words, to the teacher, the lesson, the community. People would come and then go as if it was just one of the many breaths in their day, something so common and natural yet reverent too. I don't know all their reasons for coming, I never asked anyone actually. But watching, it looked as though they came to remember something.

That April day was not an ordinary day at the temple though. There were more flowers, more candles, more people, more feeling. I had watched as they all lined up to take a turn at blessing the Buddha by pouring a cup of water on him. It was the Thai New Year - full of new beginnings and a time to wash away all that is unneeded in our lives. I soaked the Buddha, spun the prayer wheel and scribbled a blessing on the gigantic ribbon that later would be encircled around the temple. And then I did what so many others went to do - I went out and bought a water pistol, and with my passport wrapped in plastic, I went into town. Imagine a city-wide water fight where everyone is playing the game. Water guns, balloons, super soakers, and even giant barrels brimming with water. Anything that walked, ran, biked, scooted, drove, or  skipped past was soaked. There seemed to be more water in the streets than in the canals that moated the city. And so I played the game for a long while. I got thoroughly drenched and when I had my fill I retreated back to the guesthouse, got into dry clothes, packed by pack and hit the road. No sooner had I turned the corner from the guesthouse and I was nearly soaked again. I looked down the street and saw all the neighbors - hoses, water guns and trash barrels ready and waiting for me. Hmm, definitely would have to find another way of getting to the bus stop, I thought. This was the first time I took a tuk-tuk; something between a 4-wheeler/golf cart/ and taxi cab. We zoomed past the crowds and I managed to only get a little damp before arriving at the bus stop.

So I'm settled onto the local bus that will take me North to the Monastery where I will spend the next few weeks. When we passed out of the city and onto the country roads the other passengers flung open the windows and doors to let in the fresh air. It was a hot day after all. But we were mistaken. Being out of the city did not mean we were safe from the water fight. Neighbors sabotaged the road and came running, barrels and buckets over head ready to throw as we drove past. Water gushed in every window opening. I had picked the wrong seat...right next to the side door. After 2 hours there wasn't a dry spot in the bus, it literally oozed with water, dripping and trickling everywhere. By the time the bus dropped me on off at the entrance to the monastery road I was thoroughly wet and worried about a possible busted laptop and not having any dry clothes to present myself with.

I sauntered up the road 2 km, reminding myself that I would be met by Buddhists and my disheveled appearance wouldn't matter. And sure enough the Abbott gave me the best hut to stay in and welcomed me to the monastery. I happily accepted the warm linen clothes - everyone wears white at the monastery. And began another adventure.

I could write a book about the 10 days I was at this monastery. So many things happened in such a short time, I will save those stories for another day. However, when thinking of a quote or poem to offer for a day of Advent I remembered a small book of poems I found nestled deep in the back of a dusty bookshelf in the monastery library. It was in English, which was the main reason I first grabbed it. But with each poem I read I was captivated. When I finally got to 'The Monastery' by Graham Brown I could think of nothing more to write in my journal about my experience at the monastery, for this poem somehow described it all. Yesterday as I found myself walking the grounds of another monastery, this one in Spain, the poem came flooding back and thought I would share it here.

The Monastery by Graham Brown

once I knew, nothing in life could save me
& the monastery will wake you up in the cold mornings
it will kick you & drive you with more efficiency
than any alarm-clock, it will bore you with its routine
then seek forgiveness with a bowlful of food
& the monastery will always be showing you
that you are nothing & restore a sense of wonder
at the falling of a leaf, the monastery will turn you
into a giggling child & a crying child & a wise old man
whose mission is telling the world that it has to let go
& the monastery will dredge up all the horrible
secrets from the corners of the mind of a long-dead boy
screaming the truth of misery to the birds & trees
& the monastery will show you acceptance
in a good friend, the poetry of restraint & the patience
of sitting with restlessness & you will hate it & hate it
because your love is stronger & the monastery will get in your blood
more exciting & depressing than alcohol & you know
the monastery will forget you if you leave
& remember you with gratitude when you return
& the monastery will give you the open silence
you will be unable to receive they say until years later
they say the monastery will give you the strongest of feelings
& you will want to run away & curl up & die
& be born again like the greenness of a beech & the monastery
will make you want to dance & sing & regret those times
when you could & you didn’t & the monastery will protect you
like an island & you will want to swim & like a kind parent
the monastery will remain where it is