Fall-Winter Update Part 2
A woman selling produce rests in the cool morning shade. Chiang Mai, Thailand
THAILAND & BURMA/MYANMAR - HOLY LAND - ATLANTA
It was a late October evening in Bethlehem. I could hear the neighborhood kids outside my window. I was checking my email. One caught my eye, a message from a woman I had met while installing “Through The Checkpoint” and “Children of Bethlehem” at Columbia Theological Seminary last January. In it I discovered an offer to consider being the storyteller/spiritual director for Christian organization during their travels in Thailand and Myanmar. Was I dreaming? This was exactly the kind of work I had been wanting to try and now here it was! We all discerned it was a good fit, and I was set to join the group for two weeks in January! The icing on the cake was my cousin, his wife, daughter (and now two-week-old son) live in Bangkok and I could now visit them as well.
To illustrate the experience, I offer few excerpts from observations.
CHIANG MAI, THAILAND - AN INTRODUCTION
I walk out of our hotel in Chiang Mai, the air is ripe with the smell of burning fields, common in Thailand, but uncommonly early for this January morning. I cross Night Market Street, a main thoroughfare that will come to life with vendors and visitors as the sun begins to fade. I emerge onto one of its off shoots, feeling I have passed over a cultural threshold. With the Hard Rock Café, Burger King, McDonald’s, and Starbucks that encircle our hotel now to my back, I look out on what feels more authentically Thailand. Hotels flank the entrance of the road, each with its own Spirit House outside. I see employees setting out libations and pears below the throne of a small golden Buddha at one. The road is a mix of cement and dirt. They are repaving the sidewalks and parts of the street. Handfuls of construction workers are milling about, most of them are in flip-flops and carrying 2x4s or on their knees in the thick of the debris. Motorbikes, tuk tuks, a bike rickshaw, and a few cars whiz by. Then a woman appears in front of me. She is carrying two large one-and-a-half-foot deep thatched baskets tethered with rope on either end of a bamboo pole jauntily resting on her right shoulder. They bob gently with each step she takes. Resting atop the baskets are wide, leathery, green banana leaves, dishing up a citrus fruit that looks something of a lemon crossed with a large, plump kumquat. A palm frond hat shades her face and covers over her eyes, leaving mine to only study her nose, rested mouth and eclectic outfit—navy pants, a black apron with camouflage print pockets, and a purple, red, and white plaid long-sleeved shirt. What comes into our view when we go out for a walk.
A spirit house outside a shop in Chaing Mai.
It’s a Chiang Mai street food breakfast for these Thais.
YANGON, MYANMAR - ORIENTATION TO THE CAPITAL CITY
Burmese Monk, Shwedagon Temple, Yangon, Myanmar
A little over a week later we leave the paved arteries of Chiang Mai for the deltas of Burma (Myanmar). Our plane sails us over snow-capped mountains that, within an hour, melt into sloping ranges of dense verdancy. Upon our descent into Yangon we are greeted by the brilliantly glowing pagoda, Shwedagon, ablaze in the setting sun. We will get to experience it and its grand temple complex the following day. One of the redeeming remnants of its British colonial past are its beautiful parks and shaded sidewalks. Beneath the trees and alongside the ponds, it is common to see a dappling of colorful umbrellas, under which adoring couples are found strolling arm in arm. Despite its many restrictions, Myanmar is known to be a more open, warm culture, as a local pastor illuminated to us. In contrast, Thailand, while known as the “Land of Smiles” is, overall, a reserved culture, people are individualized and keep to themselves. The contrast is felt most strikingly to me at the grand Shwedagon, where everyone I asked was open to having their picture made. I struggled far less with the fear of being intrusive or disrespectful. A photographer’s paradise!
NGWE SAUNG BEACH, MYANMAR - A MAGICAL COASTAL EXPERIENCE
Thatched chicken coop in the Burmese countryside.
A Burmese construction worker seals cement along the highway.
At Ngwe Saung Beach Burmese fishermen haul in their catch, a few passersby lend their hands and join the effort.
We drove out of the city passing construction workers in flip-flops and villages on stilts whose bamboo bridge entrances stretched between the highway and front doors. We sailed beneath arcades of shady trees whose trunks served as window frames to pastoral views beyond. When we stopped for bathrooms, no matter how rural and obscure their location, they were always clean and supplied with soap. We entered the jungle and began an undulating excursion through thick verdant terrain, the one moment of bliss being the sighting of a massive elephant lumbering along the road. Alone. Just there. And, I might add, right as our guide was telling us an elephant story! If not for our remoteness, I would have thought he’d somehow planned it.
After eight hours of driving we arrived at the coast at last. Our pace slowed as we found ourselves in the beach-side village. I felt like I was in a zoetrope, the shops kept coming but seemed to be a rotation of about three variants — souvenir shops sporting button-up beach shirts and other stock tourist wares, then there were dried fish stalls, and restaurants. I also noticed the occasional coconut stand. Finally we began to see hotels. All of us now in high anticipation, but we passed them all. Following a stretch of coconut palm groves, the pavement went to dirt. We drove on.
Then our driver turned and in we entered a small resort, bright white and welcoming. Like many Burmese structures - restaurants, hotels, and more - it was open to the elements. As we walked up to the lobby, I saw only the ocean beyond. My eyes transfixed by the massive blue expanse, I instantly relaxed. Throughout our days there I spent as much time as possible in view of that voluminous beauty. I realized more than the sight, it was the sound that I craved. The lapping hush of the waves, releasing onto the beach, then balancing out as they were swept back into their source.
I leave you with my favorite moment—one of the best of my life. I took a nighttime walk out to the beach that first evening making my way over to the wooden swings I had spotted during the day. They were wide, suitable for two. I smiled, now knowing this was reflective of Myanmar’s freely affectionate culture. Their size was also perfect for this one body to lay down. I took off my shoes, felt the soft grain sift through my toes, and hoisted myself up and balanced my head and back onto the wooden slab while my legs and feet rested on the chain, lifting to the sky. There, my gaze settled and I began my watch for shooting stars.
I knew it would take about 20 minutes for my eyes to adjust, maybe more due to the bright lamp overhead. I cupped my hand around my right eye. Using the handy-dandy SkyView stargazing app I knew where to look. East… toward the light. Unfortunate. Well, I’d still try. There seemed to be some kind of meteor shower happening over there so I kept my hopes up. I laid there and waited, drinking in the long, luscious moment. Ocean softly drifting in and out to my left, the deep sky above twinkling with stars and planets, my back held on the secure wooden seat, my feet happily flying high, and the warm air hugging me. Then, sure enough there is was! I saw a star sail from East to West. I tell you, I’m beaming even now as I recall the memory and write it out for you.
I wonder, what memories can you dip back into and relive such joy of your own?
Reflections
As I have continued to reflect on that time, I find the experience affirmed, challenged, stretched, amazed, deepened, and strengthened me, my beliefs, my spiritual practices, and my ways of interacting with others. I learned a lot about myself. The work called forth—necessitated—my best self. I thrived in my creativity as well as balancing output and self-care. I discovered, as I had truly hoped, I love this work—I thrive in it. While life in the world is very different at this time, I am still hopeful this was not a one-off, and I look forward to more opportunities.
Between Atlanta and the Holy Land
Soon after I returned to Atlanta I learned dear Gladys, the Palestinian woman I had so deeply connected with in Jerusalem whom I shared about in my last blog, had died. I find myself still grieving her loss in many ways. Memories of her turn my thoughts to her daughters, to their family in Gaza, to their people throughout that small strip of land full of tragedy and resilience. COVID-19 has not stopped the horrific realities plaguing our Earth prior to its arrival. As we all now have a taste of isolation and confinement, I hope we will recognize we can now relate in some way to Gazans who are in their twelfth year of the Israeli blockade and other Palestinians living in the West Bank under military occupation and restricted movement since 1967.
Gazans are effectively living in what many call an open-air prison. They are rarely able to get out, even more rarely are people able to get in. The situation is so bleak the U.N. deemed it unlivable by this year. Two million people still live there. That’s 14,000 people per square mile. To put it in COVID-19 terms, “Every individual has an average of 0.18 square meters of personal space,” Gaza economist, Omar Shaban, informed in his recent article. That’s barely over half a foot. Water sources are so bad the damage is thought to be irreversible, fishing in the sewage-polluted sea has been restricted even further, and COVID-19 is raging with far fewer resources than many regions to properly respond. “In 2018 the Trump Administration eliminated U.S. funding for UNRWA, the United Nations Relief Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East. This funding accounted for a third of the agency's budget. In response to the pandemic, UNRWA has put out an urgent request for funds” (Palestine Portal). They rely on donations from individuals like us. If you feel led, here is an opportunity to fund supplies for the region. More details can be found in my blog post here.
The other hope-filled opportunity I want to invite you into is to help launch the Art Competition for Palestinian Children living in the West Bank and Gaza! It is being organized by Diyar Theatre and Dar Alkalima University College of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem, in collaboration with Life Illuminated! Diyar and the Dar Alkalima School are who I worked with to create “Children of Bethlehem” and I am elated for this opportunity to collaborate again on a creative initiative vitally needed right now. The goal of the competition is to encourage Palestinian children to share about their lives during home quarantines and lockdowns through the art form of their choice. If funded, this competition would invigorate children's creativity and fuel joy in the West Bank and Gaza, as well as provide for some much needed salaries. We need to raise $4,857/17,000 NIS by May 1st. Can you help make it happen? Donate here!
Traveling : Home
Practices that have continued to ground me so well during the instabilities and unknowns of travel are now needed at home. I was supposed to be in Morocco the last three weeks, and in Southern California with my family today. Needless to say, I have been in Atlanta this whole time. It has been a challenging few weeks and also generative. I am learning a lot about myself and finding immense gratitude in the rhythms and routines from travel I have been able to quite easily apply to life during this time of sheltering in place. I have launched a new section of Life Illuminated called “Resources for Well-Being”, I invite you to explore it! May you discover new life within yourself at this time, perhaps reflecting on your typical modes of operation, finding you can shed what no longer serves you and learning new ways that do. I hope my resources can support you along your journey.
Thank you for your ongoing support of both my work and me. It is because of you I am able to carry on, thrive, and care for others.
Hugs, Health, and Hope,
Katie
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