Remember that Haven I told you about?
‘Exactly where I am supposed to be’ I said.
Where the sound of Om rings through the trees and the wild birds sing along,
Where the shadows of the leaves make geometric shapes and the wind whistles and crackles amongst the palms,
Where fresh papayas, the colour of the setting sun fill their bows,
And monkeys leap amongst giant banana blossoms,
Where butterflies visit red and blue and yellow flowers,
Where lizards scuttle,
And bees hum,
And crickets chirp, while I meditate…
Well, man came.
He came with chainsaws and Marlborough cigarettes and a pocket full of money.
With hunched shoulders and a team of engines,
He cut it down.
He is still cutting it down, right now.
We watch as the trees are assassinated.
Machines rip them to pieces.
Trench boots tred over the food forest garden that has taken years of love and devotion to flourish.
The birds screamed, the monkeys cried, the lizards fled, leaving their tails behind.
The fish swam away. The aquamarine waters, with litter, became grey.
And Not a word.
Still not a word.
Not even a smile.
I’m not even exaggerating. I’m not trying to be poetic. This is real. This is happening, now, before my very eyes.
I’m sitting with the locals as they watch their home be ripped apart. I sit and wait for someone to tell them what is happening. But it’s not happening, and it won’t.
She has spent years making this eco farm. She has created compost in the sand, so that papaya trees and chilli plants can grow. Tending to her garden every single day.
You see, in Thailand, there is this thing called keeping face. Acceptance.
‘I’m poor people’ she says ‘he has big money, this is the system’
The system is, that money can buy anything. Rich men from England, America, France, you name it, they can come along with their visa cards and with these golden tickets, they can do what they like.
And so they do.
Maybe they will have to leave soon? Maybe they will be kicked off the land. Their food garden is gone, perhaps the family and their animals are next?
Exactly where I’m meant to be, I said. I’m still sure it’s true, but is this a test? What does one do in this situation? I’m watching deforestation first hand. experiencing the effects, the blinded, wealthy world has on Mother Earth and Her Children.
The chainsaws ring through my ears.
The beating thud, thud, thud of the axe against the trunks, once filled with fruit and love, sends shivers up my spine.
Om, om, om shanti…
I breathe, I meditate.
Is this man bad? Is he evil? Are his workers criminals? Are they violent?
No, actually, they’re not.
They’re doing what is right by their morals. I cannot ask him, because this is not my home, it is not my place. I respect Thai culture very much, it has taught me a lot over the years living here.
But I see in this English mans hunched shoulders, stress and pain. I see years and years of working in an office to make his dreams come true. To wake up each day with the sun on his skin. To provide for his family. To provide the customers of his future resort their own haven, a retreat from the cities they torture themselves in. I see hard work and devotion.
Perception changes things…it releases confusion, anger, resistance.
What is anger? A punishment we give to ourselves. Only the angry feel the pain.
I am at peace with this.
Resistance is not flow…
I released myself from my Gurus so, this experience is my teacher.
Words are what I have to share.
Why am I here right now? Why, as I said, is this exactly where I’m supposed to be? Meditating on my inner peace?
To create an awareness. That is my duty here. No sides. No anger. No resistance to machines. No violence.
To see the world through everyone’s eyes…
‘smoking rhymes from my weapon which is my pen’, I said
I maintain compassionate and understanding to all beings…
Peace, peace peace.
(copyright © Jessica Noifeld 2018)
(Music, Pacha Mama – Nessi Gomes)