It only took 48 years.

What follows is an intensely personal entry.  I have asked myself many times why I am willing to expose these thoughts to the world. After much contemplating I decided it is because I want people to understand what is possible.  How a moment in time can give clarity to life in a way nothing else can.

Despite living in Thailand, I spend my life with a work week like most others.  Monday through Friday I hop on my scooter and navigate the Thai traffic for my eight to five job.  I confess the monotony of routine is far less for me these days however, for the most part I live a normal working existence.  Weekends are my chance to be a tourist.  A chance to venture out on a path of discovery and find the hidden secrets that are all around me.

This Sunday while many of my countrymen crowded the pews in their chosen churches, I ventured out of my house seeking a shrine of Theravada Buddhism that sits nestled upon a mountain behind Chiang Mai.  The mountain Doi Sutep looms over Chaing Mai and is a spiritual centre dating back to 1386 when the first temple was constructed.  It is a sacred place for Thais.  A place where according to legend a white elephant carrying a part of Gotama's (Buddha) shoulder bone scaled a mountain and then dropped dead.  It was taken as a sign by the Thai king Dhammaraja and the temple was begun.

Super Higway (Thanks nickdaum.com)

For me my journey started out far less dramatic than a white elephant tromping through the forest.  My chariot was my little purple scooter emblazo
ned with "Fashionista" and other girly stickers. We navigated the Chiang Mai streets and ventured out on to the ominously sounding "Super Highway."  At first I was terrified of the road.  I think it had something to do with me making a wrong turn and ending up on it with less than an hour of scooter road time smack in the middle of Chiang Mai rush hour. Cars were flying by like a NASCAR track and I felt as insignificant as a bug's vital bodily fluids dripping off a windshield it had collided with moments before.  I am doing better on it now though. Scooters tend to stay to the far left and kind of just hug the shoulder only venturing out into the fray to avoid being siphoned off on an exit.

The Super Highway ends in an an area called Nimmanhemin which is essentially Chaing Mai's "U" district.  The city has many universities but the golden one is Chiang Mai University.  It sits on a beautiful campus and there is a constant flow of young students venturing out into Nimmanhemin mixed with wandering westerners and diligent shop keepers.  Restaurants and markets line the streets and there is a feeling of youth and energy.  The district ends at a mountain and from there a road begins to

Chiang Mai University (Mahawithayalai Chiang Mai)

wind 1,676 meters up toward Wat Pra That the temple on Doi Sutep and then still further up Bhubing Rajanives Palace a residence of the Thai Royal Family.

The world changed as my scooter ascended and moved from one switch back to the next.  The air began to cool and the trees closed in around the road.  Countless bicyclists laboured climbing up the mountain and subsequently fly by on their way back down.  Each wore full cycling attire and I felt as if Lance Armstrong was hiding in the trees looking out ashamed at those preforming this amazing feet without performance enhancing drugs.

Images began to flash through my mind and the natural beauty so close to my city seemed to comfort me much in the way it did as a child growing up in Alaska.  I felt as if nature was once again joined to me.  It must be said that in my world nature is the root of all life.  It is what gives our existence and sustains us until death.  We owe our lives to this natural world and we are certainly not an exception, merely an element.  Men spend our lives creating magnificent monuments meant to exist long after ourselves.  We built Saint Peters Basilica, Hagia Sophia, Angkor Wat all in our humanistic attempts to connect to God and the world around us.  Despite this effort, there is no greater monument to God than that which already is.  The very essence of the beauty of life is God.  God is in every flower, every tree, every animal that scampers by.  God lives in the birds that sing and the insects that hop away from their watchful eyes. 

The road continued to wind upward and with each turn I felt as if my emotions and my body were becoming one with the mountain.  It is quite difficult to explain and at the outset it must be understood I am not a Christian. In truth I am a profound skeptic.  People ask for a label signifying faith and it is human to apply one yet I cannot label myself and my beliefs.  All I can do is allow them to live within me and cling to the elements that I discover.  Examples that I find on my journey through this world that seemingly provide some truth, some relevance to he restless soul within me.  I spend my life never taking things on face value.   I am perpetually asking questions, trying to achieve a greater understanding.

As I drove on I felt as if a wave began to wash over me.  It seemed to pull me from myself, from my earthly body.  Tears began to flow from my eyes at an increasing rate.  At first I choked them away yet they refused to subside.  I navigated my

way to a small road side temple and climbed the steps where I sat before the Buddha within.  Buddha is not a God, it is an idea.  It is a teacher of how we must live and what we must strive for in life.  Gotama (Buddha) would say not to revere him.  He was just a human being.  Instead, seek your truth within his teaching.  He would tell you to never stop questioning for in your questions you will find truth.

The tears continued to fall unabated.  My mind searched for the reason and found it in my love for this place and this time.  I have spent 48 years of my life searching for something.  Something I can't define, a spirit I didn't know how to recognize.  I have tried to find my peace so many times yet always it eluded me.   I have never felt centered anywhere.  Never felt any place was a part of me or who I am.  I suppose I was close in Alaska yet something drove me away.  It might be easy to fault the long winters yet something sent me off on a quest for discovery.  It led me to leave at a young age and never look back.

Truly a restless spirit exists within me and like a wandering monk I have journeyed through life questioning who I am and what I should be.  Wondering where was my place in the world.

Something wonderful consumed me.  They were not tears of sadness, they were tears of joy.  Tears of relief, as if a long journey had reached a conclusion. As if life had presented me with an answer to so many questions I had asked myself for as long as I can remember.

I cannot remember feeling such emotion.  Such pure and raw emotion.  Men are taught not to cry.  We are told to keep our feelings within.  This mountain had instead defied all human reservation and unlocked the very private box that holds my soul. As I sat and looked out in the distance I felt as if for this moment I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  I know I have found something in this mystical land.  Something that I have sought after my whole life.

With my eyes dry I continued my journey up the mountain and a light rain began to fall.  It washed over me as if to say that my tears were not alone.  The mountain chose to cry with me.  It chose to be one with my emotion, with my joy.  When rain

falls in a forest it is not sadness.  Rain in a forest is life.  It is the giver of sustenance to all around it.  From the smallest plant or insect to the largest tree everything drinks it in and shares in its nurture.  I reached the temple and made my way up the long stairs to the top.  With great respect I removed my shoes and with bare feet walked around the monument built so long ago by a person that perhaps felt a power in their body equal to that I felt.

For many their journey to the top is simply a land mark.  It is a curiosity to see, photograph and remember as they resume their lives and varied beliefs.  For others it is a holy place.  A connection to what it means to be alive and what it means to die.

I didn't have long pants and out of honor for this place that washed over me like an ocean wave I chose to leave the beauty of the temples inner sanctum to my mind for now.  Instead I knelt before a statue with my legs tucked behind me.  I closed my eyes and tried to center my mind.  I thanked life itself for allowing me to be who I am and to make me feel so welcome, so at home.

Renovation and renewal surrounds the tiny temple. Like the world it exists in, it grows older and the buildings that surround it change.  For a small donation I picked up a roof tile yet to be placed.  I sat at a great mahogany table and did my best to let my feelings flow from my mind.  I left a moment of myself in a place of beauty that would exist far longer than my body, yet in some way no matter how I move through time it will always be a part of me and my consciousness. 


We all move through life on a journey.  Some of us find our path others never do.  Many of us will never even look afraid to find answers to questions we dare not ask. 

Everyday when I drive to work I drive straight toward Doi Sutep.  It rises before me as if to remind me of the place where I discovered who I am.  Sunday, the day of my ride up the mountain was Father's Day in America.  Perhaps another lesson I can draw from one of the most emotional moments of my life is that even as a father I am still a child in my heart.  A child who is growing, learning and with each passing day, discovering who I am.