With Kit

Archives for 2012

Luang P’Ri—A Thai Monk

I was wandering through the grounds of Wat Umong, an isolated forest temple in northern Thailand. Everything in the shade seemed to be covered with moss, everything in the sunlight scorched, baked and faded. As in a lot of Thai temples, many trees are considered sacred, and bear the orange robes of the order. Many more carry little plaques inscribed with pithy Dharma quotations.

It’s an ideal space to have fun with a camera.

I was caught by a strange inscription on the ground, and studied it. As I did so, a young Monk approached me, clutching a piece of paper. Pronunciation exercises. He pointed, and asked in very broken English how to say “cupboard”. He was not quick to take in the new sounds. But he was eager to chat, in any language.

He took me on a tour of out-of-the-way parts of the temple. The broken-down crematorium, the head monk’s quarters. Our English lesson deteriorated; we resorted to Thai and conversation started to flow. So I learned his story, of how he used to wait bars in the den of decadence in Bangkok that is Kao San road, then entered some backcountry monastery before arriving at Wat Umong only that week. He had taken his vows to make merit for his parents, and guessed he would not stay in the order for much longer than a few months. His spirit was wild and not ready for the confines of monastic life.

We parted. Seeing the rich, dark green foliage behind him, and feeling the soft diffuse light of an overcast late afternoon, I risked pulling out my camera.

Luang P'Ri—A Thai Monk
Luang P’Ri—A Thai Monk

fire power

Fire Power
Fire Power

Koh Tao is one of the best places to go in Thailand. I’ve been there several times, and although the trip from Bangkok is long and arduous, after I arrive I normally make the effort of crossing the island’s treacherous network of roads and tracks to the East coast, which has some isolated and beautiful beaches. This time, however, I was with my brother, and he hadn’t slept a wink on the overnight sleeper train, and so we crashed as soon as the catamaran had pulled up to the main beach. And that is where we stayed for five days.

I love this island. Even the most developed place still has a laid-back feel.

 

My brother and I have both transformed ourselves from pitifully weak swimmers into being able to swim a mile or two without any problem at all. I have to thank the TI technique for getting me to where I am now. The greatest thing about being here was being able to try-out this amazing skill away from the pool. (If you’ve never known the frustration of wanting to swim but being unable to, you may not understand how awesome it feels for me to finally do it well.)

On the second day we slapped on sunscreen, did a few stretches, and then donned our goggles. After admiring each other’s new strokes (he learned in England, I in Thailand, and we had not yet seen each other in action), then set out in earnest. Our destination: as far we needed to go to find some good fish.

I’ve never known freedom like this! We swam on and on, cutting through the water, not tiring. We saw a diving boat ahead and agreed to head for it. When we rolled-up, and then dove down, we saw why they had anchored-up here: we had found our tropical fish. Joy washed through me as I bobbed up and down with the small waves, soaking in the intensely blue water and pale sky.

 

Come evening, we feasted—as one likes to do in Thailand—and then found a cool beach bar. As we ordered our drinks, we got chatting to a couple of Australians. Settling down on comfy cushions spread on the sand, we enjoyed the fire show.

Of course, I couldn’t sit still for long. As the others continue the conversation, I tried out a new lighting technique. With the camera on a tripod, I triggered the shutter with a cheap infra-red remote control. The on-camera flash triggered a manual slave flash, gelled with +1 CTO orange, held by yours truly. I aimed this hard light directly onto the poi artist’s head.

You can see the difference between throwing some light onto the poi artist (the standout shot at the top of this post) and no light (these silhouettes).

filling in a form: more peace than hours of meditation

I have always been a yang person. By that I mean I’m never happy with any sort of limitation; I always want to push higher, go further, and create more, and I always seek the bright, well-illuminated sides of life.

But life that is all yang is without balance.

Taoist theory states that as soon as the sun reaches its brightest in our sky, it starts to decline, and we head toward darkness. The opposite is true in the still of night with the moon. It’s easy to see the balance in nature. It’s not always so easy to see it in the lives of productive, passionate dream-chasers. David wrote a piece that is closely related to this over at almost bohemian.

I thrive on creating new things. My imagination kicks in; the new project has started; I’m happy. But when the newness has settled down, I often get tired of it and want to start something else. This explains the huge amount of hobbies I’ve tried, but the very small number I’ve stuck with for more than a year or two. I’m just not very good at seeing things through.

There has been one thing on my to-do list for about two years. Two years. That’s how bad I am at finishing stuff. It was pretty simple: find-out how I can pay into the UK social security system, fill in the forms, and send the payments, so that when I retire in Thailand (which is my dream), I’ll have a small but usable pension. I’ve tackled this to-do item sporadically and half-heartedly. It’s the kind of job you can postpone almost indefinitely. Which I have.

But you know, I woke up this morning (having settled the pension issue) feeling a wide sense of peace. In the path to wholeness and peace, sometimes you have to do intense inner work, but sometimes you just need to make sure your debts and bills are paid. Lift the practical burdens from your mind—even if they are ridiculous demands made by the crazy economic systems we live in—and find rest.

glow poi

Poi has been one of those on-and-off hobbies that I’ve had since first getting into the festival scene in England in 2007. There are some really talented fire spinners in the south of Thailand, and they’ve inspired me.

These are shots from an intense session in my apartment recently.

be free from your reasons

We act the way we do because of our genes and our environment. These are our reasons. If someone treats me with cruelty, I don’t need to get angry at them, because they have many good reasons for acting the way they do. But if I get angry, that also is okay, because I have my own reasons.

Breathe. There is no Great Bookkeeper of sins. We are free.

transformation

Healing is about become free of our reasons. If you have reasons for living a life of resentment, then fine. Live like that and be resentful. But if you see a way out of that, snatch it with both hands. Find a way to get free, and find a way to live a life as though the reasons were never there.

In the second level of Reiki, students are given a way to send healing back to their childhood self. This seems ridiculous, but there is power in it. It is the reasons of the past that obstruct our full living in the present. You can understand the healing in a mystical or a psychological way (or both, if you’re like me), but what is important is that you are unlocking the chains.

You have every reason to stay unhappy, to stay in that abusive relationship, to keep eating crap food. You will not be held accountable for these things, because you have your reasons. But within you is the power to change; you are free to find a way, any way, to break free from your reasons and start a new way of life.