I open my eyes.
I'm somewhere in the jungle of Koh Phangan next to a bonfire staring up at the stars popping out of the black sky, soft conversations around me. I'm not here so much on a vacation as I'm scoping out my next Thai home (whenever that may be). I had fully intended to visit another island, but this one lured me back into its jungle greens and ocean blues. It lured me back, gripped me tight, and enveloped me. I use to fight these sorts of things. Not anymore. All there is left to do is surrender and sink into it until I become indistinguishable from it.
Blissed out in the sun for hours on this Southeast Asian beach reading Dispatches, trying not to look ironic. Coconut palms, banana trees, thick, twisted vines--motorbike adventures into the jungle to find secluded beach hideaways. Monsoon downpour, glistening green, jungle mist. I pull over and listen. The island, like most places, has a way of speaking if you listen carefully enough.
I find quaint coastal fishing villages with beauty so chilling I can't shake for days, I don't want to shake, ever. Pockets of high vibe beach communities only accessible by boat. Labyrinth fields and crystal workshops. Yogi villages and hidden jungle cafes. Stretches of trashed beaches that break my heart. I explore as much as I can in my short visit. It's been a year since I was last here, a year since I sat on Haad Tien watching my missed boat disappear around the rocky shoreline, wondering then if maybe I wasn't meant to leave.
When I open my eyes again, I'm home, back in Chiang Mai. The rains have stopped and a chill hangs in the air. I trade in my bikini and sundresses for knee length skirts and shirts with sleeves. I seamlessly slip back into my life here--from hammocks and sunset meditations to classrooms and busy schedules. My ability to slip from one life into another, unnoticeable like I've always belonged, still amazes me.
The way I moved around the US never looking or sounding like I came from anywhere but where I was. The way everyone assumed I grew up in Missoula...Santa Cruz...Santa Fe. The way I got discounts at all the yoga classes I attended on Maui because they thought I was a local. The way the bartender let me and my friends into the employee pub in Denali National Park because he was sure we were living and working there. The way I've moved through the world, a clear liquid shaped and filled by place.
I'm not out to teach or preach or make waves in the world, but to move freely through it and observe, to tell my stories as I see them. And then if others find the light in what I have to say and it inspires them and changes them for the better, I will have made my mark in the world.
"Travel light, live light, spread the light, be the light." How are you leaving more light in the world?
I'm somewhere in the jungle of Koh Phangan next to a bonfire staring up at the stars popping out of the black sky, soft conversations around me. I'm not here so much on a vacation as I'm scoping out my next Thai home (whenever that may be). I had fully intended to visit another island, but this one lured me back into its jungle greens and ocean blues. It lured me back, gripped me tight, and enveloped me. I use to fight these sorts of things. Not anymore. All there is left to do is surrender and sink into it until I become indistinguishable from it.
Blissed out in the sun for hours on this Southeast Asian beach reading Dispatches, trying not to look ironic. Coconut palms, banana trees, thick, twisted vines--motorbike adventures into the jungle to find secluded beach hideaways. Monsoon downpour, glistening green, jungle mist. I pull over and listen. The island, like most places, has a way of speaking if you listen carefully enough.
When I open my eyes again, I'm home, back in Chiang Mai. The rains have stopped and a chill hangs in the air. I trade in my bikini and sundresses for knee length skirts and shirts with sleeves. I seamlessly slip back into my life here--from hammocks and sunset meditations to classrooms and busy schedules. My ability to slip from one life into another, unnoticeable like I've always belonged, still amazes me.
The way I moved around the US never looking or sounding like I came from anywhere but where I was. The way everyone assumed I grew up in Missoula...Santa Cruz...Santa Fe. The way I got discounts at all the yoga classes I attended on Maui because they thought I was a local. The way the bartender let me and my friends into the employee pub in Denali National Park because he was sure we were living and working there. The way I've moved through the world, a clear liquid shaped and filled by place.
I'm not out to teach or preach or make waves in the world, but to move freely through it and observe, to tell my stories as I see them. And then if others find the light in what I have to say and it inspires them and changes them for the better, I will have made my mark in the world.
"Travel light, live light, spread the light, be the light." How are you leaving more light in the world?
