What a lovely, lazy day. Following a very wild evening on the nature front.
Last night, I packed my little tote with my notebook, pen, purse, headphone, Thai consonant flashcards and headed down the street to the cluster of vegetarian restaurants. I sought time processing, planning, and stuffing my face when I ran into Melissa.
We had met briefly at Smile house where she and I had a discussion about some of PETA's more unorthodox methods. I found myself nervous at first as I typically do when someone is fired up and asking me why PETA does certain things. This time I found it easy to explain how passionate the people I work with are. How what I watch and see on a daily basis would justify unorthodox approaches that are always with willing participants. Then there is the back end of PETA people rarely see. After six years with this organization, I have been privy to the difficulties of my co-workers going undercover to make a huge difference in the lives of so many voiceless creatures. I know the suffering that occurs daily (having watched hours of footage to get that perfect screenshot) and wholeheartedly rubber stamp the efforts and approaches made to ultimately end that suffering.
I am also able to share about the many divisions that don't make the news, that do the work of putting the proverbial money where PETA's mouth is - thousands of animals spayed and neutered, the many tears shed while holding suffering animals as they are put to sleep when the suffering is too great, the huge research department that provides free alternatives to dissection and animal testing. I know how the leaders live as frugally as possible, putting every extra cent into the cause, how that ethos is seen at all levels of our small team. I know that what drives everything is not the 200 people behind computers, phones, and cameras, but rather the millions who have been affected by what they see and deem unacceptable. It is the grassroots members who make this organization. Not lobbys, not politics, but your neighbor standing out in the cold, in the rain, in the heat, holding up a sign, or clicking a few buttons and sending out a petition (thank you web team for that convenience!).
I think that appreciation came through with my frank admiration for PETA and Melissa, being a very critical and forward thinker, was remarkably open to my perspective as I was curious about hers. Back to dinner plans, she invited me to join her and Elise, a yoga instructor and masseur learning the Thai methods. We drank hot ginger and lemon tea, moved to another restaurant, and dug into our love lives while sitting in an open-air sheltered rooftop area. We got into the nitty-gritty details in a way that is refreshing, brutally honest, and reflective of those fast friendships travelers make. On reflection, we are connected yet so far from our home-bases, and that advice-seeking and listening we usually get from our communities has to be Reader Digested to get that same benefit from people you've only just met. Here I am, this is my experience, this is what I'm considering. I love these interactions, where everything must be read for the whole story, where my intuition and perception is heightened to fully engage.
The first part of our meal arrived just minutes after the sky opened up and started dumping huge sheets of rain. The wind picked up and we found ourselves moving clock-like around the large table, seeking shelter from the rain blowing in and then the water gathering in puddles on the floor we were sitting on. That's when the lights started to flicker - both in the restaurant, and in the city beyond us. The wind and rain crecsendoed into a torrent that obscured the other side of the street from sight and we were plunged into darkness. Only a minute passed before the servers were at our tables checking in on us and lighting the cheap little yellow prayer candles, melting a small pile of wax onto the center of the tables to set the lit candles into. The rest of the meal followed miraculously.
We luxuriated in the candle light, amazing food, and frank disclosure of our life's stories. By the time we paid, Elise headed off to her guesthouse and Melissa and I dodged the rain and puddles as we hurried back to ours. I went towards my room, through a puddle that came to my ankles, the rain coming down through the roof and flooding the floor in front of my door. I located a flashlight by feel, moved all of my things to higher ground, and proceeded to notify work that I would most likely be unable to finish the rest of my hours. Melissa and I headed out for a candlelit beer and found a bar open and serving. The lights came back on around two, when we decided a snack of swamp cabbage (morning glory greens) would be best to end the night on and headed to our respective rooms.
I woke to a world of tree limbs everywhere filled with leaves from other trees, the pools covered with debris, and a guesthouse hostess telling me her roof had blown off in the "tornado". Still showed up for work.
My new coffee maker
Today I was finally going to mail my packages to Randy and Meredith, Kate and Berkeley. I gathered up my gear, grabbed a 40 baht bowl of rich soup, and rode my scooter over the local post office.
Luckily, the counters were marked in both English and Thai, but I took a moment to watch what everyone else did before I got into the packaging line. Each box cost me 15 baht (50 cents), and came with a tiny packet in a plastic bag. I watched the Thai man assemble his, using a gel glue stick to seal the cardboard flap, remove three clear plastic sticker strips and place them strategically on the box, tie a string around the box (yes, a STRING, and yes, Sound of Music was immediately playing My Favorite Things in my head), and carefully fill out the addresses. I followed suit.
I got into the next line, where my number was called almost immediately: Et roy baad sip goa (189). The gentlemen who assisted me spoke just enough English to name the prices for air (3x more money) or sea. I chose sea and watched as he filled out forms, used stamps on every thing (at least 6 stamps per package with great force and enthusiasm - so official!), hand me a receipt, stamp a few more things, and I was back on the scooter and headed to Smile for a much-needed nap.
My afternoon was spent working until I reconnected with Melissa and we went to a crazy good vegetarian meal at the Cathouse, served by a Thai woman with dreads to her butt and half of her head shaved. We split a burrito, a quesadilla, a brownie with ice cream, and a whole lot of conversation before we piled onto my scooter and headed home for the evening.
It's now 1:21am, I'm sitting outside under a sky spitting a few sprinkles with my Hong Thong nightcap, watching the half-paralyzed cat that is cared for here at Smile House. He is dressed with tailored diapers to minimize rubbing as he drags his immobilized lower half around, meowing loudly and getting everything he wants - flea baths, tons of love from both staff and guests, generous servings of cat food, special cat beds he's lifted into and curls up with the other resident kitty - both of them napping, head to head, breathing shared air.
I've spent an inordinate amount of my work day listening to Byron Katie, doing some meditative writing myself, and trying to unravel the sense of unease I have concerning the Aaron situation. Total resolution inside takes time sometimes and multiple inquiries into my beliefs surrounding my story. I want that closure to come from communicating with him - it's such a great shortcut - but I'm trying first to get that from inside myself. I want to be settled into the reality that is so much kinder than my story, the reality that holds the love and peace I touch on occasionally that doesn't depend on the reactions or words of another.
Lately I find myself identifying my own thoughts with that of the young children at Smile house, going from total disaster crying fits to the excited esctasy of play. How accurately that has described my experience attaching to my thoughts. I'm in love and he loves me back - heaven. I texted and it's been 30 minutes without a reply - hell. All the while the world is passing by me unnoticed, unattended. My own body running itself despite my inattention, breathing, thinking, arranged in space, aging, beautiful and made of the same material as the stars.