Post 22: Samachik

Last Saturday, a teacher and friend named Dtoi took me to her wat for samachik. I was unsure of what this meant exactly, but gathered that it had something to do with breathing and meditation. Dtoi told me to wear a white shirt and picked me up at 6:30 pm, just as the sun was setting in the rain-saturated sky. We drove a few kilometers down the highway and pulled onto a narrow road, winding through a grove of trees that bordered on a rice field. Through the dusk and the trees, I could see people dressed similarly in all white moving through the faint darkness like ghosts. They were following a monk, whose wise limbs were as gnarled as an old oak tree, and Dtoi and I hurried to catch up. The wat contained multiple buildings, each with a separate purpose, and on our walk to the meditation room, we passed a monumental brick structure that in the night seemed to tower over us, reminding me of an ancient, haunted mausoleum. Dtoi said I would be able to see it more clearly the next morning when we returned to the wat to “make merit”, and I wondered if in the light of day it would seem less ominous.
We ultimately stopped in front of an all-white temple, which is unusual in Thai Buddhist architecture, took off our shoes, and descended stairs into the basement. The entire room was made of white tiles and barren of furniture, except for a shrine at the front and woven mats on the floor. We each selected a cushion and a place on the mats. In the front of the room, closest to the shrine, there was a larger mat and cushions for the monks. After the monks entered the room and paid their initial respects to Buddha, they began chanting. The scent of flowers and incense wafted through the room, mingling with the guttural murmur of the Pali chants, and I tried to focus on the smells and the sounds, rather than dwelling on my physical discomfort (my legs had fallen painfully asleep). The chanting continued for half an hour. All of a sudden, it came to an abrupt halt, the lights were shut off, and the room was immersed in complete darkness. Through the silence, Dtoi whispered to me that we would remain like this for one hour.
Unexpectedly enveloped in a world without sound or light, my first task was to stretch my legs. Once comfortable, a disorienting consciousness of existing in a void began to sink in. I was filled with a blissful sense of freedom. I could think or do anything and nobody would ever know. Even though there were other people sitting inches away from me, I felt like I was alone. There on my cushion, on the third mat, in the basement of one building in a temple of many, in Wat Bot district, Phitsanulok province, Thailand, I felt an acute, existential isolation at the same time as a profound connection to the rest of humanity. It was like the consuming darkness stripped away all the superfluities of existence, and all that remained was something basic, simple, and universal. It was being anchored in the world and lost in it at the same time; communing with who I am while simultaneously acknowledging my insignificance. With darkness removing me of my body and silence removing me of expression, I felt like a freed soul floating in a nonmaterial world, and I began to consider who I am beyond physicality and social interaction.
In many ways, this meditation experience was the appropriate culmination to my first six months at site. I am the only foreigner here. No matter how well I speak Thai or how involved I am in my community, I will always exist as an outsider and be unable to fully communicate because of the language barrier. Sometimes it seems like I am secluded voiceless, and lost, just as I was in that room. True there are moments where I feel alienated and alone, but there are just as many moments where I feel closely bonded to the people around me, despite the gaping gulfs of language and experience. Sitting samachik helped me realize that this is a big part of what Peace Corps is about- transcending cultural differences and finding a common humanity.
It is also about self-discovery. Never in my life have I had so much time and space to think. It is inevitable that being surrounded by friends and family will influence our actions, no matter how independent we are. Living my daily life without American friends and family has helped me see myself more clearly. The Bekah left to her own devices is not the same as the Bekah existing in a world filled with fun things to do. I am a very social person, and without a steady stream of activities to occupy my time, other things have had to take their place. These past six months have been a period of incredible creative productivity. I’ve been writing poetry like mad, which I never used to do, and forming my own aesthetic style. The walls of my house are littered with various art projects, ranging from paintings to collages to amalgamations of the two. I am also healthier, tidier, and more thoughtful than I ever was before. These traits were always in me, but now they have room to breathe.
It has become clear to me that I cannot stand boredom. I am naturally restless and love to be busy. I have to be in the thick of things and cannot stand to let any opportunity for adventure pass me by. As a result, I have trouble slowing down and saying no. If given the choice of staying home or going out, I will always pick going out, regardless of whether or not I should. I do not like to turn down any chances because I fear I will miss something if I do. However now, with my dearth of options, I fill my time with yoga, reading, art, exercise, and writing. Additionally, without a million personal concerns running through it, my mind turns to other people. I have learned that in some ways, I missed just as much by going out as I would have staying in. “Life experiences” are not just about gallivanting around with friends (although that is a big part of it), but also about personal expression and self-awareness. I have learned that quiet and calm are not things to be abhorred. Now, in no way am I becoming an introvert. I still love being out and social. After staying at site for awhile, I go slightly crazy. I need to see my friends and blow off steam, of which I still know no better way than dancing until the sun comes up. But I now see the value in balance and moderation as well, and the importance of knowing when to say no. As with all my thoughts lately, it all comes back to harmony.
I know I have changed. I know I have grown. Parts of Peace Corps have been incredibly hard for me and I have had moments where I felt broken down. Other times, I feel on top of the world and like I could handle even more of a challenge. With a quarter of my service and one school term behind me, I feel ready for what comes next. This first term was about getting oriented, adjusting, forming relationships, establishing a life from scratch, and sowing seeds. I am looking forward to next term when all that I have learned and planted can begin to come to fruition. But in the mean time, I am so excited to see my mom. She arrives on Friday (October 9th) just in time for both of our birthdays. We will spend a few days at my site, before heading off to Chiang Mai, Vietnam and Cambodia. I am excited for vacation, I am excited to travel, I am excited to turn 23, I am excited for a clean bed and hot water, I am excited to speak English for two weeks, and I am excited to see how my mom perceives all these changes which have felt so radical for me, but are maybe not so dramatic to an outsider. Maybe I have not changed so much as acknowledged elements of my personality that were always there. I don’t know, but we shall see. Until next time…