Buddha Walked into a Monk and Said Wat?

When I settle down and am not overwhelmed by the traffic, the pollution, the heat or my nervous tendencies toward shyness, Chiang Mai becomes a city of animistic Magik and fluid motion. I don’t want to get sentimental or grandiose about this place, but my moments are, again and again, found inside something beautiful. I must temper myself, as everything looks new and fresh when traveling, and I can easily get excited about a door. It looks so simple here. Wrap a rice ball in banana leaves, fill it with sweet “pancake” and hold it shut with a toothpick; put the white string on your head for good luck; dye rice purple, blue and green with flowers; dye fabric with squished ants and make a scarf; wrap a tree in red and yellow fabric then support its boughs with golden crutches. And i’m obsessed with the brooms. They are lovely. I intend to find a broom “factory” and give them their own post. I feel that the traditions and culture support a grounded connection to the sacred, and this further supports the patience, kindness and elegance of the people of this city.

Michelle and I have been visiting the Wats. A reasonable farang activity as there are many. Many, many. And they are really pretty. We’ve participated in a Monk Ordination ceremony and a Monk Chat; have been blessed by a mysterious monk in a dark corner with a piece of string; seen ancient, crumbling Wats; a shiny, brand new silver Wat; walked deep inside a scary, snake, cave Wat; and attended a ceremony for the Buddha inside which I can only describe as the most amazing New York Art Installation piece that I have ever seen.

Katy, Mindy, Grandma, I was thinking of you when we found Wat Chai Sri Phum. I wish you could have been there to see it. All of the Wats that I’ve seen are beautiful, ornate, colorful, strange and mysterious in their own way, and my response to Wat Chai Sri Phum may not have been as strong if we had not walked in while the Monks were preparing for an upcoming weekend celebration. It was Death Hour, to escape the heat Michelle and I decided to hide inside a Wat. Not expecting a spectacle beyond the expected spectacle, what I saw in bare feet and in dazed heat belonged in a Gallery. The ceiling was a grid of white string with more white string tied into a ball at each intersection, huge branches wrapped in gold and silver foil leaned on each other to form a teepee, banana leaves and marigolds adorned white ladders that went both up and down, weavings hung from the ceiling, bowls of rice and seeds were placed where they needed to be, along with bundles of sticks wrapped in gold in silver foil. An altar of a dozen gold Buddha’s overlooked the scene while Monks (some of them tattooed) wandered around in saffron robes.

It was even more ridiculous when we returned on Saturday for the ceremony. Offerings of banana leaf and bamboo boxes filled with origami fruits and flowers and prayers were set up. Over which some of the ladies in the Sangha battled over the timing of the lighting of incense and candles. Even more random weavings, drawings and plant matter filled the space. It was dense and also delicate. We were kindly encouraged and guided to sit beneath a ball of string. Then, in  broken Thai (I for the most part just said ”thank you” and “good afternoon” over and over) and pantomime (point to a ball of string above you, then circle the top of your head and you’ve got the moves) we came to understand that we would get to wear the string on our heads! It was a wonderful experience to be sitting with about 200 fellow humans beneath a grid of string, each of us releasing the string so that one end was still tied to the grid and the other end was coiled atop our head. Prayers and much chanting allowed for a lovely rhythmic ceremony in which the woven connection of all life felt real and present.

We were later told that this ceremony was to clear all the bad from our lives to make room for the good.  The whole experience was pretty solid. We were blessed with water, given an embroidered chord, and instructed to keep the string with us. Possibly in our pocket or under our pillow or under our hat. I had hoped to grab one of the many drawings and paintings hanging from string or sticks, but the collective Sangha was quick, and I was timid. Afterwards, we were invited to eat lunch with everyone, including the Monks. The food was served Family style and was the most delicious that I’ve had so far. 

I’m not a Buddhist, I approach the Wats with an artistic and anthropological interest. From my conversations with the Monks, the locals, and from what I’ve observed, the Thai embrace Buddhism with an easy going Spiritual affinity. Not only are Wats everywhere, but so are Spirit Houses and Shrines and evidence of Folk traditions. In restaurants, it is not uncommon to see totems and talismans hanging dusty and feathered on a wall or from the ceiling. You can buy a blessing of a flowered necklace and hang it on a rusty crane or a lamp in a bar. I have the feeling that my teacher is using Thai Massage as a glamour to a deeper magical experience. There is no need for me to believe or feel anything new or inspired or revelatory. The pressure is off, for the most part.  This is the culture shock that I was looking for: a relaxed but strong support for the individual experience. I am living inside a Dali painting. My limbs are supported by golden crutches, ants are everywhere and time is meaningless. 

In a future post, either Michelle or I will write about the scary, snake, cave Wat. It deserves more than a mention. We walked inside the mountain, we plan to go back and walk on the mountain. Here is a picture of a snake on the snake:

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