Return to Paradise

I wake in the morning and peek through the mosquito netting and straight through the wide slats in the bamboo hut. My line of sight ahead is above the rooftop terrace bungalows where guests slept alfresco on the evening of December 27th while Tan stood on watch all night long.

In case everyone needed to spend another night in the jungle hills.

I have the most incredible view of aquamarine green bay and the lush limestone cliffs fringed by colorful long-tail boats and speedboats on Phi Phi island in Thailand. (And all this available at a simple 400 baht bungalow.)

At dusk tonight, I walk through the shantytown of Ton Sai village and on to the brunt of tsunami damage on the island.  Construction reigns in this concentrated area and the views of both bays are still unobstructed by villas or lodges.

Signs read: Return to Paradise.

I'm now back at the gracious and friendly Maprao bungalows where I stayed last December 25th (and intended to stay December 26th instead of Vachira Phuket Hospital).

I talk with Richard - not his ordained name - the "rebel monk."

Richard's known as the "rebel monk" way before the Chinese guest ("I don't own a TV") whom works for a HDTV manufacturer in Phoenix is aghast to find him sitting in Maprao in his saffron robes and casually smoking a cigarette.

Richard spent three years meditating in a Penang, Malaysia cave with "cobras and pit vipers for company". We talk about the tsunami, karma and giving. He tells me of gathering food donations for the Malaysian tsunami-struck coast last year. "Imagine that, I have a Hindu friend deliver Buddhist donations to a Muslim village."

He repeats an experiential lesson that I hear survivors over and over say in different words: "I live moment to moment now." In Buddhist dress it looks like what Richard says:

"The next moment is uncertain. Now is the effect of the last moment and is the cause of the next, so Now is the most important moment." And were you to call Richard on his cellphone his voice mail says more or less: "There is no you to call, no me to answer...only one never-ending series of cause and effect."

Richard is meditating more and more intensely each day leading up to the tsunami anniversary. It also happens to be the two-year anniversary of his own mother's death.

I walk over to the HiPhiPhi volunteer shed looking for volunteer coordinator La and see that tomorrow a group of international monks are coming with a northeast Thailand forest monastery contingent. They are here for an public all-day metta meditation and dharma Q&A on hehalf of the victims and surviving family members.

That is where you will find me on Christmas Day.

It's Christmas Eve as I write. For an island renowned for its hedonistic Spring Break style parties, the mood is subdued tonight although decidedly not down. And I have been amazed by the realness and richness of my conversations here the last two days.

I will have been in Thailand one week - that is after 1 a.m. technically - and I've learned more than I expected for a month. I'm still digesting and allowing the patterns to emerge in order to share this in a cohesive manner with you.

But until after the 26th, I'm taking a page from Guy, the owner of Maprao whom was interviewed by the Belgian TV station, RTBF today. (Actually I was too.) He squarely put the focus on remembrance and respect of people rather than on the complexities and controversies of disaster relief and response.

On Christmas Day and Boxing Day, if you are so inclined, I invite you to spend a brief moment in silence and radical stillness for all the disaster victims of the past twelve months across all the world.

Hug your loved ones and enjoy each moment of your holidays.

Signing off from gorgeous and remarkable Phi Phi, Thailand.

Comments

[Tamar]

Today I will spend a brief moment in silence and remembering with you. And, all the while, holding you in my thoughts.

[qbic]

Dear Evelyn,

My name is Robert Seyfert, aka Manao (Thai for Lion :-)

I have spent the greater part of this day reading your moving and fascinating blog. Don't I have better things to do than that? Normally I would say yes, but for some reason your writings touched a nerve inside of me. I am not a survivor of the tsunami, but I lost very dear friends that day on Phi Phi. It is a loss that has become part of my life since that day.

Only a few days after the tsunami I joined a group of people who under the auspiece of the Thailand Islands Foundation wanted to publish abook about the island. I work as a designer, so it felt so very right to do just that, since I couldn't go down to the island to help. Work that took us the greater part of this year to complete.

Feel free to drop by the website www.phiphibook.com if you are interested :-)

On pure chance I found your blog and have now subscribed to it. I look forward to reading your next posting.

Life moves on and somehow we have to try and learn something valuable and positive from even the grimest of lessons.

I wish you the best and hope that you are well.

Robert

"Life is a gift we far to often take for granted"