Another wooden necklace

Have you ever noticed that as soon as you hear about something, be it a new piece of information or you see something that you haven't ever seen before, suddenly you start "seeing" it more often? Well, if you haven't noticed it now you will...

With that awareness comes patterns--I see patterns--or perhaps I am creating patterns with my awareness. They become the themes in our lives, which patterns essentially are. I suppose it makes it all seem more purposeful, not just chaotic and random.


I am ready for reflection on these (in)signifcant objetos. Perhaps spirituality, in part, is finding meaning but in more of a universal manner, in order to apply it to your reality, but know that it is all universal. Buddhism explains this idea in the four noble truths, perhaps other religions have a different way of putting it, but it's simple: Life is suffering. Not for everyone at every moment, but for someone it inevitably is. Life's theme, it's what all artists seek to explain, point out, make a little pattern--Connect the dots, connect the beads...
and then let go of the object.

The Patagonia tree necklace, Fede's Patagonia tree necklace, the Hindu bead necklace and now this one...
All of the necklaces are wooden, taken from a tree, and then carved to each one's uniqueness. A necklace is made to go around the neck of one individual. It can be taken off, it can be shared, passed on, but only one person can ever wear it at any one time. I suppose it confirms the notion that there can be transcendence in a small object, like a necklace, that can be passed from one person to another. Yet, ultimately, we are all alone.

It is August 7th, one day before another 8th. I hiked to the top of Doi Suthep, the highest mountain in Chiang Mai that is also the location for one of the larger temples in Chiang Mai. My friends Pui and Benz and I took a song taow (a covered pickup truck with built in benches for passengers to jump in and ride to their sought out destination) behind Chiang Mai Zoo where we started our trek. Of course it rained and we walked, and it rained some more, it was great to hike completely soaked.

Benz is married (she has been with her farang husband for 7 years, married for 4--just like Fede and I, well, would have been; Pui is going to get married, also to a farang. I have never been surrounded by so many farang relationships, or perhaps, like I mentioned, I am acutely aware because I was also one of them and now, abruptly, I am not.

During the hike Pui would talk about how Josh (her fiancee) always has to wait for her when they hike--so many parallels in our relationships, in all relationships. Pui and Josh are companions, in adventure, in life, just like Fede and I were.

I was several steps ahead of them for most of the hike. I tried not to stop because when you stop in the forests of Thailand, especially during the rainy season, the mosquitoes attack you. However, I felt obliged to stop and wait for my short-legged Thai friends and I finished the day with red-dotted legs, but with also a lot of good moments. I'll connect the dots later...

During the hike we saw beautifully strange mushrooms on the way, mostly smooth white ones. We did come across a rare mushroom, bright red, that resembled a tomato. It was rare, but alone, no other around like it. Hmm. I wonder if it feels lonely, solitary in its rareness.



When we finally reached the top I was surprised to find a lot of shops and even more tourists. I had expected to arrive at the top of this mountain and find what I usually find at the summit of a mountain: silence, perhaps some wind, and a beautiful view below. But, this is Thailand, and the altitude of Doi Suthep is approx. 5500 feet. Therefore, most people take a song taew or motor bike to the top, thereby explaining why we didn't see anyone else on the trail. It's o.k., no expectations.

The ladies didn't want to make the last trek of steps to the very top, understandably, they are Thai and have done it probably more times than they would have liked. So, they waited below and I walked up, stopping to buy a soda water on the way. After having walked the last 20 steps I paid my 30 baht farang entrance fee and entered. I was one of many at this temple, yet alone, able to go in whichever direction I wanted so I wandered towards "the scenic viewpoint from the temple".

Ironically, at this major Buddhist temple, I was thinking about other moments, not the one I was in. My friend Abi's birthday party is tonight. We have to dress up in 1978 attire (the year she was born) and I didn't have a costume yet. I saw some beaded necklaces that looked 70's-esque. Distracted by the party and other moments I didn't recognize that the beads were meditation beads or that a monk was the one selling them. I was at a temple, it all just seemed normal. And I was more concerned with the aesthetic value of the beads for my costume.

I asked the monk the price of these "plain" beads that would hang long around my neck. "99 baht", he said. So, I chose a color (a simple plain wood, painted an amber color). I took the beads from the rack and placed them on the counter to purchase. The monk said that he wanted to bless them first. He started chanting and I had no idea what he was saying, but it was beautiful and peaceful and I closed my newly moist eyes and listened, silently thanking him and whatever else led me to this moment, this moment of solace.

I always find moments of solace when I go to the mountains. And even though I didn't think that I was going to find it when I reached the top of Doi Suthep, I did, just in a different, unexpected way.

When he finished the blessing the monk placed the beads in my hand, as I couldn't directly take them from them. According to Buddhist tradition a male monk and a female can never touch, not even if they are just touching the same object and their flesh never touches. An object can be passed on but the individual must accept it, and take it on, alone. He placed them in my cupped hands and he saw my eyes, my teary eyes, I know he did, and he warmly smiled. I took them and placed them in my backpack that was lying on the ground next to me. I glanced over at him before I left and he looked kindly at me again, as if he knew something, as if he knew that he had helped. He grinned at me with his eyes and I walked on.

There were a few other stalls selling jewelry but I didn't stop, I just kept walking slowly, trying to be present in the moment that I was in. I saw another temple, quite small, nearby. I abruptly stopped when I noticed something I had never seen before. There are always two dragons, one on each side, at the entrance of every temple. They are there to help protect beings from evil spirits. Yet this temple had something quite distinct. Underneath the dragons were these three letters: M O M.




My heart skipped, I don't know if it was sadness or comfort I felt at those three letters. I was honestly stunned. So, I stopped and got out my camera and took a picture, I didn't know what else to do. I don't know if I would've even noticed it if I would have been here before November 2, 2009, the day my mom passed away.

There are dragons at the entrance to every temple to help keep away evil spirits--just like a mother does for her children. Perhaps I had forgotten that my mother did this, ultimately, for me.
I have yet to see another dragon at another temple with these letters.

I put my hand close to my heart and kept walking. I finally got to the viewpoint. I looked on at a picture perfect view of Chiang Mai below with crisp white clouds in the sky. I appreciated the view and took that automatic picture that one takes from viewpoints and then re-applied my sunscreen on my face. Behind me I could hear bells ringing, they were beautiful, the sound resonated in my heart. I took a picture of the bells, and proceeded, almost in automatic mode, to the temple entrance. I had a "I should go see this temple" feeling, and I was ashamed of the should feeling but I took off my shoes anyway and entered. It was alright, there were too many people, too many people traveling together, and too much gold, too many golden objects--the reflections on my eyes were strong and I felt weary. So, I left "the summit" and I journeyed back down to find my friends and leave.

As we made our trek back down I thought about why I originally decided to come to Thailand, to Asia. The main reason was, of course, for spiritual reasons. To try and find the connection between the moments and the objects that have accompanied those moments in the past 18 months. At this moment I am residing in a country that is 90% Buddhist, and in Buddhism the mindset is now, be in the now, be in the present, and it is the one thing that I am unable to do.


I finished the trek to Doi Suthep with red-dotted legs and now, right now, at this moment, I am connecting the dots between the "bites", I am trying to just let the beads hang from my neck for a moment, and then let them transcend to another moment, let the other necklaces just be as well. Well, I am trying, at least, trying to let the objects go. And that is something (in)significant.