Close Encounters of the Monk Kind

I woke up this morning realizing that this trip to Thailand is a bit of a pilgrimage. I don't think that this was a conscious expectation, but certainly a sentiment in my heart. I wanted to experience a country where spirit communication, reincarnation and energy work was not only accepted, but a way of life.

I wanted to belong - - to find a spiritual home.

My work as a medium has been well received here in Thailand. (More details later once I have the okay of the sitters.) And the personal healing (judged by the tears of men and women since I don't understand the language) is tremendous.

But more than the work, I wanted to "feel" the energy of Spirit - - I wanted to find a transformative experience in the temple compounds (wats) of Thailand.

In Thailand, there are wats EVERYWHERE. And there are monks EVERYWHERE. Before coming, I read quite a bit about Theravada Buddhism and the protocol for dealing with monks. The last thing I wanted was to create an international spiritual incident.

Many young men in Thailand serve as monks for 1-2 years - - in other countries there is mandatory military service. In a John Lennon moment, I could imagine all men in spiritual service . . .

Anyway, back to reality.

Thailand is an interesting mixture of Buddhism, the influences of Hinduism and animism - - there is Spirit in all things and the Buddha is revered above all. No Buddha images may be removed from the country.

When a structure is built, those spirits who have been displaced, are provided a spirit house and offerings. There is an understanding that all actions affect others. Shrines in unexpected places to Hindu gods (like Ganesh) shift the energy of the place and raise the vibration of the surrounding location.

When the Erawan (elephant) Hotel was being built in Bangkok, there was one tragedy after another (including a death of a workman) until a shrine was built. Now the hotel is one of the most beautiful and successful. My father used to say, "Can't argue with success."

I made an offering of incense and jasmine at the Erawan shrine and watched young women perform traditional Thai dance for extra luck. (I found out later that an offering would ensure pregnancy.) With the crowds, the mufflerless roar of motorcycles going by and eyeblinding clouds of incense and other less appealing smells, it was not the spiritual experience I was looking for - - and I didn't feel any luckier (and I wasn't pregnant).

So, I thought, "Okay, look for the monks. Listen to chanting in the wats. Meditate before a golden Buddha image."

Now just an aside - - women cannot approach monks, cannot touch monks and cannot hand alms or anything directly to monks. That doesn't seem like a big deal until you're in Thailand. As I said before, monks are EVERYWHERE - - and not just in the wats - - and not just one or two at a time. But groups on the sidewalks, on public transportation . . . EVERYWHERE, but especially where a clumsy and big American woman is going to bump into one.

But monks are also where I thought I would find quiet, contemplation, solitude and Spirit.

Not.

The wats are full of noisy people, souvenir huts, refreshments and yes, even monks.

In Chiang Mai it is literally wat city. Right down the street from our hotel is a beautiful compound. I heard that monks would be chanting at 5:30 p.m. so I was there at 5:25. And I was the only "farong" (white person) there. It was quiet, contemplative and then . . .

"How old are you?" I was being addressed by a monk in orange robes who didn't look older than 16. This question created a dilemma. What was protocol? It didn't help matters that he was standing there with a hose watering the sand in front of the temple.

I decided to answer with, "You guess." This stumped him . . . fortunately.

I then asked, "Will you be chanting today?"

The answer, "No chant. Water." (Just my luck.)

The conversation continued for quite awhile - - the length determined mainly by our difficulties understanding one another. I placed my business card on the steps of the temple and he picked it up - - obviously appreciating my understanding of what was appropriate. He kept the card and asked if I was single - - alone. He was thoroughly distressed to find out that not only was I single, but I didn't have any children. He pondered this for some time before saying, "Must go. Must water." And I could almost hear him thinking, "Must pray for you."

Yesterday we trekked up into the mountains to visit the most famous and beautiful of the wats in the area, Doi suthep. Three hundred steps lead to the temple grounds. A gold stupa is the center of the temple area and golden Buddhas surround it on four sides. The wrought iron fence around the stupa is hung with bells of all sizes which are rung by devotees as they walk. Huge gongs (one donated by a man from Georgia, USA) are bonged regularly. Absolutely deafening.

And yet. . .

My traveling companions, Gloria and Cal, and I found ourselves alone in a temple on our knees with a monk blessing us with water. Afterwards, Cal got a white string tied on his wrist by the monk and Gloria and I had the same done by a lay person - - all for luck. Once outside the temple, we had to sit down. The energy was so overwhelming it was difficult to stand. Power in the blessed water, being blessed by a monk and being prayed over by him. It was palpable. In essence, what we came for.

But still . . . no chanting.

And then this morning at 4:30 a.m. I awoke to the sound . . . of chanting. What happened to 5:30 p.m.? I hung my head out the window of my room listening. Beautiful chanting from the wat of the young monk I had met two days before.

Chanting . . . and then the rooster started to crow. The sublime and the ridiculous.

The spiritual in the midst of the everyday. The answer.

Spirit reminded me, once again, that what we expect may not be what we receive, but we receive what we need.