After a few moments of meditation in the most important temple of Chiange Mai , I just sat and observed the beauty in this golden Buddha image. I met a couple girls from Holland, who also came up to get inspired. I said hi and next thing I know, I have the pleasure to enjoy a few moments of walking with new friends. Our next destination was Wat Chang Lueng, the monastery with the monk chats. When we found it, there was an outdoor area with stone tables and benches. At each table sat one monk, dressed in the traditional orange robes. I came to the first monk that I saw and timidly inched closer to him. The girls stood from behind. They had no interest in joining me. They left quickly, saying farewell. I was actually glad that they left because I really wanted to sit down and kick it with this monk. I was standing over him. He smiled and said, ‘Sit down, take it easy.’ I don’t know what he thought he meant by the ‘take it easy.’ For me, he was saying, ‘don’t be so uptight, don’t have any fear, let go for a minute.’ That was enough for me to sit down comfortably. He was a young monk, 30 years old. He introduced himself as Sunthorn. He had an every-so-slight slouch, but his monk-hood points made up for lack of posture. He held a pen in his right hand, with an open Mead notebook, the page filled with notes written in Thai. He also had a bound reader that discussed rules of law in different countries. He initiated the conversation, probably suspecting that I would be timid to speak to such an exotic tourist attraction as a real live monk! The closest we have to Buddhist monks, at least in terms of outstanding attire, are the Hassidic Jews in Brooklyn, who perhaps just as holy, are consistently seen rushing somewhere. Hassidic Jews are like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. ‘I’m late, I’m late, I’m so so late!’ Where are they late to? If I had this thought at the time of my discussion with Sunthorn, I would have loved to bring it up. I would have asked him, ‘Sunhorn, you are a Buddhist monk. You spend much of your time slowing down, letting go, opening up the window of your heart to yourself and to others. Have you ever seen the cartoon Alice in Wonderland? You remember the white rabbit that’s always late? I noticed that Hassidim — those cool looking dudes who are 26 y/o but look like they’re fifty because of their long beards and those who are 90 who look like they’re already dead with their even longer grey beards — they are always rushing somewhere. I’m late, I’m late!’ Sunthorn would probably smile at me and say, ‘He is late, indeed…[with a pause for dramatic effect]. He’s late because he’s already convinced himself so. When he gets there, he’ll still be late. But one day, when he is old and wise, he will finally stop and say, ‘Shit man! where am I always running to? And more important, why am I always running somewhere? Baruch Hashem! Praise Be! I have become enlightened! Fuck Yeah! I’m the coolest Jew in this shtettle!’ And then,’ Sunthorn, would continue. ‘And then he would throw on his yamerkah and slowly swagger to temple, smiling at the Jews and non-Jews, at cats and dogs and even pigs! He’ll pass by McDonallds and see a teenage couple devouring a bacon cheesburger and smile at them too, maybe even saying to them, ‘enjoy! my friends. Just don’t give me any cause I be Kosh Kosh!’ He would get to temple 30 minutes later than he normally would! And he would fear G-d only as much as he needs to be the best darn person he can be. And the rest of the fear would be swept away along with his previous pre-conceived notions of the future. He would collect the oodles of wisdom – the prize for being such a good man – and he would spend the rest of his days showing others how to be the same.’
Well, at least that’s what I would have said if I were a monk and someone asked me to compare a Buddhist Monk and a Hassidic Jew. Moreover, I would say this: ‘and you see, my friend, the difference between the monk and the rabbi is that there is no difference. A monk is a human just as much as a rabbi. Both endeavor along a different path but the goal is still the same. The difference is not in the cake! It’s in the icing. Inside it’s really all the same, with slight variety in the tones of sweetness, tart, and texture.’
But alas again, this was not the case with Sunthorn. There was no discussion of white rabbits or enlightened jews with thick beards. Instead we discussed Buddhism as seen through my eyes and his eyes. Sunthorn, like most Monks in Thailand, practices Theravada Buddhism. There is also Mahayana Buddhism, more popular in Japan and in the west, and also the Buddhism that I have personally been into. There was a huge language barrier between the two of us, and therefore I’m sure that I only got just a little of everything he said. It was just too difficult to understand the guy. He explained that Mahayana foscuses on compassion, and in Theravada Bussism you can eat meat. There was a pause, as I could tell he was fishing for words to impart the other ways in which Theravada was different from Mahayana. He just didn’t have the vocab to continue, and went back to explaining his personal thoughts. I’m glad he did, because one’s personal experience is always sincere, and therefore more interesting, and frankly, more meaningful to me. Here I began to furiously take notes in my black Moleskin notebook. ‘Why are there so many monks?’ he asked, gingerly, softly, with a clear hint that an answer would come next. ‘There is a meaning to making a decision to be a monk: for freedom of mind.’ I thought to myself that that was admirable because most, if not all people in one way or another want to reach the same goal. Yet he decided to do it via monastic training at a monastery.
Sunthorn said that he studies all world religions. He is interested in the question: ‘Who is G-d’ for every different religion. He also said that there are only two religions that don’t believe in a supernal G-d-like figure: Buddhism and Sen. At first I thought he meant Zen, but then he assured me that it was not Zen, but Sen. I have never heard of Sen. We shared my English-Thai dictionary which I always keep in my groovy red man-purse I bought at the Chiang Mai midnight market. But Zen was not there. We were left in a mini tornado of translation-loss, but we surviced by jumping to another topic: nirvana. Sunthorn believes in Nirvana, also known as impermanance-bliss, enlightenment, happiness, freedom etc. ‘But not in this life,’ Sunthorn said. ‘We practice not for this life. We beleive in action. We look for control of the mind. But in this life, I may not get there, and so I have to be here and now in all of my presence, to build karma that will give chance for nirvana in next life.’ Sunthorn spoke slowly, often breaking eye contact to find the right English words. ‘In this life we have to practice to not do bad things; to purify the mind. This is very imporant!’ I asked him how do you purify your mind? ‘Meditation.’ he said without the slightest hesitation. I was ready to piggyback his answer with more ways of practicing: increasing gross national happiness by doing random acts of kindness, for example. But I decided that Sunthorn knows all this already. So I just listened for more. I’m glad that I did because what he said next was really cool. ‘Don’t doubt just because you don’t know.’ Now he was looking straight into my eyes. He knew I knew that he felt strongly about this opinion. ‘If you doubt, your mind is not stable, and you are unhappy. You have to believe. For me, I do it through meditation.’ If we had been talking about the eternally-tardy rabbi, I would have asked the Monk if he would advise the rabbi to do the same with Jewdaism, and the preist with Christianity, and the Muslim with Islam. I wonder what he would have said.
But at that point we had been talking for over 45 minutes. The other monks at surruonding tables were lucky to have speedy conversation with other tourists. Luck has it he got me, who could have sat another hour, discussing this and that. But I Q/A sessions. But I did not want to overstay my welcome. I lowered down my philosopher dim switch and upped the tourist one: I thanked him and pulled out my DSLR Nikkon camera and asked his fellow monk friends to take a picture with him, and then asked if I can be in the picture with all of the monks. Snap! I showed my ever-so-popular peace sign, to which the monks accepted as everyday photo pose (If you notice photos of ethnic Chinease, Thai, Koreans, they always put up two fingers on both hands to show the peace sign. I’m not trying to sterotype. I am full-on sterotyping! Cause it’s true!!!) In any case, I joined in the silent, smiley pose of eight monastic peace signs, and said my farewell. ‘La gon’ I said.
Sunthorn nodded and then said. “I’m always here at this time. Come by and we can talk more if you have time.’
‘I will’ I said with all sincerity. ‘Maybe next time you can tell me what I have to do to become a monk!’ I laughed half-jokingly.
‘If you do, then you’ll really like it,’ he responded. ‘I can tell by you.’ In this weird way I was touched by his words.
I think I may have blushed as well. I laughed it off again and said, ‘Hey man, I’m a monk-in-training already!’ This seemed to satisfy my Buddhist counterpart. ‘Korp-kun-krap’ I said to him and put my palms together with the finger tips right below eyes – the appropriate ‘gasho’ position, the one that is meant to show repect for monks and elders, just as Oom taught me.